


Home

by WanderingTiff



Series: Home [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angry Sex, Anterograde Amnesia, Car Accident, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Nudity, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Piercings, Recreational Drug Use, Sexual Content, Shotgunning, Smoking, a LOT of alcohol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-11 00:56:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 113,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2046987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingTiff/pseuds/WanderingTiff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>NANOWRIMO WINNER</p><p>Marco is a cake decorator for a family friend's bakery. His career was vastly improving and he had yet to get further. However, on the day of his sister’s birthday, he got brutally hit in a car accident and lost the ability to store new memories day after day.<br/>Two years later, an artist moves into town named Jean Kirschtein. He paints the scenery of Miami, and he longs to be committed into a relationship. One day he meets Marco while he works at the bakery, and both of their lives are changed forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first multi-chapter fic in a while, and I've had so much inspiration for it. This is a 50 First Dates AU fic, and this kind of marks the tenth anniversary of the movie. I plan on posting one chapter every Tuesday (with the exception being today because I'm posting the prologue and chapter one). By the way, I did not expect the prologue to be this short.
> 
> If anyone is triggered by scenes with car accidents, this is the only chapter where it talks about the accident in full detail. It would not be necessary to read this chapter, since it's just setting the scene and it will only be hinted after this as we get further into the story. Of course Chapter 2 would be required to read if you wish to. Just a heads up!
> 
> Here is my [tumblr.](http://flutefluffs-trash-bag.tumblr.com)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (P.S: I know there are quite a few grammar errors in this story, and I'm so so sorry for that. I'm trying to proof it all, but college makes it almost impossible to go back and fix things. I hope it doesn't turn you off too much, but I completely understand.)

_It was relatively warm out for_ being February, and the air conditioning kept the small bakery at seventy-six degrees. Anyone with a brain knew that down in Florida, it was pretty warm. It would take visitors a little while to get used to the heat during the winter.

However, in that bakery it felt rather moderate compared to other parts of town. And that was one reason why Marco Bodt rather loved being at his job. It was relaxing, and all of the baked goods and batter in the refrigerator were kept nice and cool. Just the perfect conditions to be under when baking and decorating cakes in a hot kitchen.

Marco blew some of his dark hair out of his vision after washing his hands. He needed to be in full concentration now that a very important cake in particular had to be decorated. He smiled as he coated the first tier of red velvet with buttercream frosting. A small voice then called over from the kitchen.

“Is that one Ymir’s?”

Glancing up, Marco smiled as he nodded. “I’m making her red velvet to surprise her.”

A tall, rather muscular man stood beside him, patting his back after taking his apron off. “Red velvet sounds delicious.”

He nodded and smiled. “Wanna help me with the flowers, Reiner?”

“Sure.” Reiner went over to the sink and washed his hands. “Hey, remember that guy I introduced you to last week?”

“Who, Bertholdt?” Marco perked up his head. “The tall guy?”

“Yep.” Reiner smiled. “I’m going on another date to night.”

“Nice,” he grinned. “Good to see you’re really hitting it off.”

The two of them kept themselves busy decorating the birthday cake for Marco’s sister. He made sure that it was extra special, like he had always done for his family members’ birthdays. He intricately worked on each flower made of frosting after adding a second tier.

As they finished decorating the phone rang. “I’ll get it!” Marco called and stepped away from the counter, wiping off his hands with a towel and answering it. “Hello, Braun’s Pastries, where quality goods are eager to be served? “How can we help you?” He smiled when hearing a familiar voice on the other end. “Hey, Armin.”

“How’s the cake coming along?” He heard his friend’s voice.

“Great.” He glanced over at his finished project while Reiner spoke to some customers. “Do you want to come over and try some?”

“Can’t,” Armin sighed. “I’m at the beach with Sasha.”

Marco groaned inwardly. “Bummer. I’ll save you a piece, okay?”

“Alrighty. Thanks!”

“No problem,” He smiled. “So, why exactly are you calling?”

“Oh.” Some sweet laughter was heard along with some background noise. “No reason. Just checking on you and your cake.”

Marco then heard something along the lines of “Armin got a boyfriend!” following a quick protest. That must have been Sasha.

Realizing, he grinned. “Oh, a boyfriend? What’s his name?”

“E-Eren.”

“How nice,” he smiled. “Armin, you’re gonna have to introduce him to me tomorrow. You do realize that, right?”

Armin seemed a little embarrassed on the other end, and he let out a nervous laugh. “Of course. He has to try your cake! I told him you’re amazing at it—”

“Well, Reiner is the one who basically mentored me, of course.” He laughed as he interjected.

“—And even though his sister’s birthday already passed, he really wants to try other pastries. Like maybe your muffins.”

“Oh wow,” Marco smiled. “Excellent. I’ll let Reiner know.”

“Oi Marco, help me out here with the muffins!”

“Speaking of muffins Armin, I gotta get back to work.” Marco scratched his head. “I’ll talk to you later, okay? …Again, congrats on the new beau.” He chuckled and they said their goodbyes as he hung up. “Okay, I’m coming!” He quickly helped Reiner. They gave their customers the muffins they had made a few hours prior to their visit.

Reiner then glanced up at the time. “Hey, it’s four-thirty. You should get going to for Ymir’s party.”

“I should,” he smiled. “Thanks for helping me.” He called as he took his apron off and rolled down his sleeves. “Oh. You have a new potential customer. His name’s Eren. Armin didn’t get to tell me his last name though.”

Reiner nodded and smiled. “Alrighty. Sounds good.” They both carefully got the cake into a box, and Marco effortlessly carried it in both hands. “Take care of yourself okay?”

“Will do, Reiner,” he grinned. “Tomorrow morning, you gotta tell me about your date.”

“I promise I will.” He smiled. “Now go on. Tell your sister I said happy birthday.”

Marco nodded. “Okay.” He slowly headed towards the door.

“See you tomorrow, Marco!”

“Yep, see ya!” He got to his car and precariously set the box down in the back seat. He took a deep breath. “I hope she really likes this one.” He looked at the time again as he went in the driver seat.

He smiled to himself. He was so happy for his friends and how close they were with their partners. Reiner was with Bertholdt, who by the way Marco remembered him saying that Bertholdt was a lawyer. Armin was now with Eren, and he for one couldn’t wait to meet the guy. And of course, his sister Ymir with her girlfriend, Krista. They were going to celebrate their anniversary soon, he realized.

Marco turned up his radio as he drove home, smiling and humming along to the music. The windows were rolled down, and the breeze touched his sun-kissed, freckled face. He was very happy with where he was in his life. He loved his job working for Reiner, even though the only thing he really knew how to do was make and decorate cakes. However there were places that paid higher money for what he does, but he kept turning them down. Reiner always insisted that he was so talented at what he did, although he couldn’t imagine not working for him.

He was a bit lost in thought while he drove and got to the stop sign. He watched the road, and he had to turn down a main road. As he turned he heard his phone ring. Sighing, Marco blindly moved one hand to answer it, putting it on speaker. “Hello?”

“Hey Marco. Are you almost home?”

He smiled a bit. “Not yet, Dad. I have you on speaker.”

“How many times have I told you not to talk on the phone while you’re driving?” his father groaned. Marco could tell he was probably pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’m not even looking at it!” he sighed. “Well, what’s up?”

“Can you stop at the store real fast on your way here? Your father forgot the liquor.”

“Well, I’m sorry that it slipped my mind!” A slightly deeper voice rang out in the background.

“It’s not Ymir’s birthday without drinks, of course.” Marco chuckled. “Don’t worry. The store’s right up the road here.”

“Okay okay.” He laughed and hung up. He loved his dads, but sometimes they cared about his safety on the road a little too much. He was twenty-one years old and planning on moving out. And he was a much better driver than Ymir.

The store was right at the corner, and he parked the car to head inside. Luckily for him it sold liquor, so he made sure to get what Ymir liked. He glanced over at the cashier and smiled when recognizing her.

“Hey Annie.”

The short blonde looked up and gave him a stoic expression. “’Sup, Marco.”

“Not much. Getting this here for Ymir.” He placed the bottle down on the counter. “Also… can I have the Marlboros down there?”

Annie got the pack for him from the bottom shelf. “That’ll be sixteen seventy-nine.”

“Price of cigarettes went up again?” Marco groaned and got the money out of his wallet. “Oh well. Hey you know about Reiner’s new boyfriend, right?”

“I should,” she mumbled. “I introduced them to each other.”

“Oh,” he laughed. “Well cool. When they get married then we all will know who to thank.”

Annie nodded while he paid. “Smoking’s a bad habit, Marco.”

“I know, but I’m trying to quit.” He put the pack in his pocket. “Last pack. Quitting cold turkey really sucks, y’know.”

“I’m sure.” She sat back. “Tell Ymir I said happy birthday.”

“I will,” Marco nodded. “See you later, Annie.”

“Yep.”

He waved and walked out, taking a deep breath. “Here we go,” he smiled as he placed the bottle down in the passenger seat. When he put his seatbelt on he put the strap behind himself because it felt really uncomfortable. “Ready to party.

Marco started driving home and turned the radio up again.

“Alright,” he sighed and kept one hand on the wheel while taking out his cigarettes. “Nah, I don’t want Dad smelling that I had them.” He glanced down to make sure the pack didn’t end up on the floor. “He has the nose of a goddamn bloodhound.”

Both hands on the wheel now, he drove down the main road. He was heading for a traffic light that just turned green for him and drove on. At the same time, on the passenger side a station wagon continued at full speed despite the red light, the driver’s attention on their cell phone rather than the road. Marco had no idea what hit him as they collided within two seconds.

The car skidded further to the side from the impact, causing the other cars to skid around him while one unlucky driver hit him from the front as well. His torso flung forward hard before being shoved back from his seatbelt not being on correctly. He received a violent hit to the head, glass from the window cutting his face while the airbags were set off.

The radio was muted out, replaced by the pierced ringing in his ears. The world was getting fuzzy, and his head was warm from the profuse amount of blood running down his face. His heart raced while a commotion quickly gathered around his car as he went unconscious.


	2. On Top Of The World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years after Marco's accident, Jean moves down to Miami after buying his parents' summer house from them. His friend Connie is new to the area, and he shows him around.

_“I’ve had the highest mountains  
_ _I’ve had the deepest rivers  
_ _You can have it all but life keeps moving  
_ _I take it in but don’t look down”_

-       _On Top Of The World_ , Imagine Dragons

 

* * *

 

**Two Years Later**

_The last box was placed down_ inside the studio that overlooked the view of the beach. An exaggerated sigh filled the room. The man that made the noise ran a hand through his tousled hair, and he glanced over at the window.

            “Shit, Connie,” he breathed out. “’S fucking beautiful, man.”

He was knocked out of his thoughts by a firm slap on the back of the head. He glanced over after flinching, seeing Connie—a slightly shorter guy that had a haircut that made him look almost bald—grinning at him.

“Jean, you sap.”

The man in question took a deep breath as he walked back over to the window. Jean hadn’t been down in Florida since a family reunion about four years ago. But now here he was after buying the summer house from his parents and having his best friend Connie coming down as well to live with him. He was his roommate just so that they could both split the mortgage and utilities.

Well it’s Miami, so of course there were also girls to consider. Everyone and their grandmother comes down here to soak up the sun and earn a living or just get away from the stress back at home.

It was the end of May, and people from all over the country have been down here for the Memorial Day weekend. However, Jean and Connie were staying—hopefully—permanently.

“Ready to go on the prowl, Jean?” Connie then piped up.

“Jesus, we just finished moving in!”

“Nope. _I_ just finished moving in. _You_ on the other hand, need to still set up your studio.”

“Yeah yeah, I’ll do it tomorrow.” Jean was an artist, and he did traditional sketches and paintings in hopes to sell some for a decent living. Most of his cash actually came from commissions online with digital art and graphic editing. “I’ll do it tomorrow.”

“By tomorrow you probably mean next Saturday, but that works just as well for me!” Connie laughed and punched his arm as he rushed out of the room. “Ready to mingle, baby!”

“Okay, don’t make it weird,” Jean muttered.

They headed out of the studio and downstairs. Connie grabbed the keys to his jeep. “You promised you’d show me around?”

As they both got into the car and Connie put the keys in ignition, he glanced over. “Wait, am I sure I have a reliable guide? No offense Jean, but you say you’ve been down here a lot when you were a kid, and my skin is darker than yours.”

“The sun is my enemy,” he groaned. “I never get tan. I burn and end up looking like the fucking poster child for Red Lobster.”

Connie completely failed at choking back his laughter as they drove down the street. “That sounds about right.”

“Fuck off,” he snorted and glanced at the rear view mirror on his side. He messed with his hair and tilted his head to look at his ear. “Hey Con, should I get an Industrial for my ear or clavicles done?”

“Hmm…” Connie pondered a bit. “Both. Do the clavicles first.”

“Glad you saw it my way,” he grinned and the jeep stopped at a stop sign. “So… allow me to enlighten you on the scenery?”

His friend nodded. “Fire away.”

“Okay, down the street when you turn the corner there’s Walmart—”

“Jean!” he interjected. “Come on man, the cool places!”

“Walmart is cool.” Jean wore a pathetic pout when the car continued moving. “The best bars to go to around here are right by the beach, but the drinks there are pretty fucking expensive when tourists come down.”

“Well that’s for sure. They’re smart.”

“Yeah they are,” he sighed. “Oh. And there’s the grocery store where my family usually got food.” He pointed at the plaza across the street. “And you should know what a mall looks like when you see one.”

“Well I’m not dumb Jean, it’s over there, isn’t it?” He wasn’t wrong, but the mall was still about a mile off when he pointed towards it and drove.

Jean glanced at Connie. “Er yep. Close enough.”

They turned down from the main road and went down a more organized chain of small businesses. Stores and markets that sold everything from antiques to dresses, as well as organic and homemade food. When pointing out each one, Jean saw one that looked very familiar.”

“Oh hey, there’s the bakery.”

Connie briefly glanced over and slowed down. “Braun’s Pastries?”

“Yep.” Jean nodded. “They make the best baked goods, let me tell you. Their pumpernickel bread is out of this world, dude.”

He grinned. “You know I’m a sucker for pumpernickel. Hey, let’s go buy a loaf.” He backed up to pull into the parking lot. Good thing no one was behind him. No one should ever trust Connie behind the wheel completely. “Then take me to the beach!”

“Hey you’re the one that’s driving!” he laughed and got out. “This bakery is a family business. It’s probably still up and running because of the guy’s son.”

“Cool! I’m sure the bread is just as good.”

They stopped inside, and both of them sighed in relief. The air conditioning when walking in was so soothing. Jean saw that the place had been remodeled since he had last gone here, but he supposed it was good change with all the necessary upgrades. Especially the air conditioning.

The burly man behind the counter glanced over. Yep. The son had taken over the business. “Hello there. How can I help you boys out today?”

“Damn, he’s chiseled!” Connie gasped out as Jean covered his mouth to try and prevent him from speaking.

“I told my friend here about the pumpernickel bread, and he really wants some.”

The baker nodded his head. “You guys visiting for Memorial Day?”

“Nah, we just got settled to stay down here. We live in my parents’ old summer house.”

There was then a more welcoming smile on his face. “Glad you can stay down. We get to know everyone around here by name.” He wiped his hand off using his apron before holding it out. “I’m Reiner, the owner.”

They both shook hands with Reiner as they introduced themselves. “The name’s Jean.”

“And I’m Connie.”

“Welcome to Miami.” He smiled and went over to the displays. “Lucky for you guys, we just finished our first few servings. Let me wrap one up for you.”

Jean glanced over and noticed there was an intricately decorated cake next to the displays of muffins. “I didn’t know you guys made cakes like that too.”

“When it says ‘pastries’ on the sign, that now especially includes cakes like these.” Reiner chuckled once the bread was on the counter. Connie paid for it. “We have a pastry chef here that decorates the cakes. He graduated from Le Cordon Bleu.”

“Cool, a pastry chef!” Connie grinned. “Where is he?”

“On his lunch break. He should be back soon.”

“Maybe we’ll come back tomorrow,” he said. “Jean’s gotta take me to the beach. I’ve never been down here before.”

Reiner nodded. “Believe me, you’re gonna love it.”

Jean took Connie’s hand. “Come on, before too many people get there.”

The two of them turned around just as a couple more customers came in. One of them was a guy with blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. The other was slightly taller and looked rather familiar when standing next to a dark haired woman. Jean tilted his head.

“Eren? Eren Jaeger?”

Eren turned to him, his eyes shining. “Jean Kirschtein! Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

The two of them grinned as they shared a hand-stinging high-five. They were both good friends that kept in touch over emails after meeting a few summers back.

“I bought the summer house from my parents. So I live here now.”

“Nice!” Eren grinned. “Oh, this is my boyfriend, Armin. And you remember Mikasa.”

“Sure,” he smiled. “Hey, Mikasa.”

The other guy—Armin was his name—shook hands with Jean and smiled. He then looked over at Reiner. “Is he back from his break yet?”

“Not yet,” he said. “He should be here soon.”

“Great, I can introduce him to Eren today,” he smiled.

“Speaking of introductions.” Connie waved his arms. “Hello, rude friend! I’m over here! Let me meet the new people.”

Jean glanced over. “Oh!” He laughed and brought him over. “Guys, this is my friend Connie. He’s living in the summer house with me. Connie, this is Eren, a friend of mine that I first met a few summers ago. Armin is his boyfriend, and Mikasa is his sister.”

They introduced themselves and shook hands, and they all went into a brief fit of giggles when catching up on news. Jean and Connie both realized they needed to get to the beach. The five of them all hurried to exchange phone numbers as Jean walked to the door.

“Hey Eren, we should all hang out together sometime at the beach.”

Eren nodded. “Okay. Remember your SPF seventy-five when we all go.”

“Oh, I knew you forgot something!”

“Connie, shut up!” Jean laughed and went out first after saying goodbye. As he walked out the door he bumped into someone and flinched back. “Whoa, hey!”

The person he bumped into was genuinely surprised. “Oh god, I’m sorry!” was the gasp in response. Glancing over, Jean noticed the slightly taller man. His eyebrows were furrowed from shock and he watched him regain his footing. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Jean replied as he looked at him. “Yeah, I’m… okay.”

That was the moment where he realized that _damn_ , this guy was gorgeous. He definitely lived around here, judging by his natural tan. He probably also did a lot of work while topless. Okay, his mind was seriously wandering, and he needed to snap the fuck out of it.

Of course when the man flashed this perfect smile his mind wandered back up in the clouds after eliciting a noise that sounded like the honk of a fucking goose from the back of his throat.

“What was that?”

Such a whimsical tune coming from the simple words _“What was that?”_ Oh wait, he was talking to him. Jean snapped himself out of his thoughts. He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair.

“N-nothing,” he stammered and his voice cracked.

The main laughed—such a princely laugh. “Good. I’d better get back to work.”

“Wait.” Jean glanced back. “You work here?”

“Jean! Beach!” Connie pulled on his arm to bring him outside more. “Let’s get going already!”

“Okay okay!” Jean hurried to follow him but kept glancing back at the stranger, who was smiling while talking to Eren, Armin, and Mikasa. He went to wave as he looked back up and waved back. He and Connie got into that jeep to head down to South Beach Miami. “Did you see that guy who came in?”

“Yeah,” Connie nodded. “He’s probably that pastry chef.”

He sighed. “Damn, I should’ve gotten his number.”

Going down the hallway, he laughed. “Jean, you sap! We got the whole beach to scope still!”

“Nope. I’m actually kinda hoping to get into a relationship with someone.”

“Aww, Jeanbo wants to settle down!” he grinned and drove.

Jean sighed and rolled his eyes at his friend’s comment. He really had to pull the “Jeanbo” card? “There is not really much to settle. My relationships don’t even last a week.”

“Well, you can ask for his number tomorrow. How about today you just do some experiencing.”

“I think the word you’re looking for ‘experimenting?’”

They got to the beach and pulled into the parking lot, and Connie pursed his lips. “Mhm. Yep. That’s exactly what I said.”

Jean got out first. “I’ll pay the meter.”

“Cool! Now tell me where the bar is. I’m thirsty.”

“Connie, it’s two-thirty,” he chuckled.

“So?” He threw on his shades and walked down the sidewalk. “Let’s go!”

Jean had to point him towards the right direction, since he was going the opposite way. He inhaled the fresh air, listening to the boisterous music, the crashing of the waves, screeching of gulls, and the sounds of children screaming about how they didn’t’ want to leave or they wanted the expensive food. The two of them glanced over at the bar down the corner when they found it, and Connie grinned.

“Here we go!” he laughed.

“Looks like I’m gonna be the designated driver.”

“Jean, it’s two-thirty in the afternoon. I’m thirsty, not crazy.”

“There’s soda in the next store over,” Jean sighed.

He shook his head as they stepped in. “Nah, I’m not in the mood for soda.” They went up to the tender, and Connie ordered a shot. They listened to the music in the musty room.

Jean sighed and propped his head up. “…I need a smoke.”

Connie snorted. “You left them at the house, didn’t you?”

Jean crossed his arms, wearing quite a grump on his face. “I left them in Jersey.”

He took another sip from his shot glass. “Loser.”

Rolling his eyes, Jean looked around. He saw a woman sitting at a table glance over their way. The two of them made eye contact, and she wore an enthusiastic smile and crossed her legs. He was pretty sure that he was giving her a spaced out look, and he shook his head and glanced at Connie.

“Hey,” he said, “for being a loser, I already got an admirer.”

Connie looked over at the girl. At that point she quickly fixed her hair and smiled.

“That’s because she’s looking at me. You dweeb.”

“ _I’m_ the dweeb?” Jean blushed. “You’re the one drinking in the middle of the day.”

“Shh…” He pushed a finger against Jean’s lips. “Stay right here and look pretty. I’m gonna go and talk to her.”

“Yeah, you do that. Good luck.”

As Connie got up, Jean sat back. He sighed and watched the two of them talk, with his friend attempting to be flirtatious but of course failing at doing so. He glanced over at the beach and shook out his hair.

“Hey… why the long face?”

A bit startled, Jean glanced over. Sitting in the seat Connie was just in was another woman, smiling as some of her hair got into her face.

He cleared his throat. Yes, she was a pretty girl, and Jean needed to seem like he knew what he was going to talk about. “Ah, I’m just not that much of a social butterfly.”

She grinned. “Well, you’re a pretty radiant butterfly, that’s for sure.” She held out her hand. “I’m Hitch Deliss.”

He stared at her hand a bit before shaking it. “Jean Kirschtein.”

Hitch crossed her legs. “So. Are you from around here, Jean?”

He nodded. “Sorta. I just got settled in my new place. That guy over there is my roommate. We came down from New Jersey.”

“Jersey, huh?” She smiled. “I got a cousin that lives there. I come from Buffalo. I’m here for the weekend and leaving tomorrow afternoon.”

“That’s a shame.” It would have been really nice if Hitch lived around here. That way they could have been a bit more acquainted than what they would with just one day to hang out. He then tilted his head. “…Is that a phoenix tattoo on your leg?”

She glanced down at her calf and nodded as she saw her own tattoo. “Yep. That’s new. I also got one of Marvin Martian on the small of my back.”

Jean sputtered. “You mean the Looney Tunes Marvin Martian?”

Another nod. “Is there any other one?” she laughed.

“Well, I suppose there isn’t,” he chuckled. “Hey, are you doing anything today?”

She glanced down and seemed to be thinking about it. “Nope. Nothing major. Why?”

Jean nodded. “Wanna come and hang out on the beach with me and my friend Connie?”

“That sounds pretty fun. Considering that I’ve been going to the beach every day all weekend.”

He glanced down. “Whoops. Sorry.”

“No seriously, it’s fine,” she laughed. “Let’s go now before your friend there tries to order another shot.”

Looking back over at the table, Connie and the girl were still smiling and laughing. He must really be hitting it off with her. So Jean got up just as he could make out the words. “Hang on a sec, I’m gonna get another drink.” With that he grabbed his shoulders.

“Slow down there, Tiger,” he laughed. “Instead of getting yourself drunk when you are my ride home, how about you take your new lady friend there and walk on the beach?”

Connie scratched his head. “Hmm… You’re right. And you take your girl too over there. Nice catch, she’s a hottie.”

Jean blushed. “Hey shut up! Hitch is only in town until tomorrow, she lives in New York.”

“Ooo, rock her world before she leaves you forever!”

“I’m not gonna do that!” He shoved him and went back over to his seat. “Ready to go then?”

“All set.” Hitch grabbed her back and smiled while locking her arms together with him. “So this guy here is your friend?”

“Yep, I’m Connie.” Connie came right over, following the woman whom he had been talking to the whole time. “And this lovely lady her is Sasha.”

She looked over at Jean and smiled. “Hey, Jean.”

“Nice to meet you, Sasha.”

They all walked together. Jean realized that it really had been a while since he had been to any beaches. And he also had no sunblock with him. He was really going to burn today without it. That’s a bit unattractive.

Connie looked over at him as the four of them walked along the sand. “Hey, I just told Sasha earlier that you’re an artist.”

“Oh, an artist?” Hitch smiled and glanced over. “So you paint?”

“More than that. He paints, does online commissions with Photoshop, and he colors inside the lines in coloring books.”

“Impressive.”

Meanwhile Jean was blushing like an idiot, attempting to hide his face.

Connie laughed. “He’s modest.”

“Am no, I’m trying not to burn to a crisp over here!”

“Well hey,” said Hitch. “You can wear my sun hat.” She took it off her head.

It was evident that Jean looked genuinely relieved as he put it on. “Thanks, Hitch.”

“No problem,” she replied.

Along with that was Connie and Sasha snorting and laughing amongst themselves from looking at Jean.

“That hat looks so stupid on you!”

He punched Connie’s shoulder and pouted. “Hey! When you’re notorious for getting burnt, you have to be prepared somehow!”

“It doesn’t match your hairstyle, though!”

Hitch rubbed Jean’s arm. “I think it’s cute.”

Jean frowned. “Not quite the reaction I was looking for.”

“It’s okay,” she smiled.

\--

 _The four of them walked along_ the beach for several hours, not getting back to their cars until about nine at night. Connie and Sasha exchanged numbers before she had to go back home. Turned out she only lived a couple blocks away from their house.

Despite wearing the sun hat, Jean still got sunburn. His arms were pulsing, and his shoulders ached. To make matters worse, Connie then patted his back, making him wince.

“Next time, don’t forget your SPF seventy-five.”

As he laughed, Jean’s eyes narrowed. “Fuck you.”

“I love you too, man!” He smiled and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

Jean took the hat off slowly and handed it back to Hitch as he laughed nervously. “Thanks for lending me your hat, Hitch.”

“No problem,” she smiled as she tossed it through the window on the passenger side of her car. “I know I’m going back tomorrow anyways, but… want my number?”

He tilted his head and then nodded as he smiled. “Yeah. Sure.”

Jean took his phone out, and so did Hitch. They exchanged their numbers and shook hands one more before she leaned close and kissed his reddened cheek.

“Today was fun,” she smiled. “Thanks.”

“I, uh…” He blushed as he fucking honked again. “Yeah. You’re welcome. No problem, er uh… Yeah.”

She laughed and then turned around. As she went into the driver’s seat, Jean could just barely catch the tell-tale Marvin Martian tattoo, right where she said it was. He found himself blushing again.

“D-damn…”

She fastened herself in the driver’s seat and grinned as she started the car. “Bye, Jean.”

“Bye…” She had already left as Jean waved. “C-call me!”

Connie started the jeep and watched him come back in. “Dude, she’s not gonna call you.”

“She’s definitely gonna call me.”

“I’ll just let you think that.” He grinned and drove home. “We have aloe vera at the house, right?”

“Yep.” Jean looked out the window. “By the way, I’m gonna take a picture of the look on your face when despite you saying she won’t call me she ends up doing it anyways.”

“Okay.” He laughed and drove.

The first day being on the town after almost officially moving in was over. However, Jean was most likely going to end up spending Day Two lounging about at home after getting hella burnt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll tag my chapters as #fic: home jm  
> So that people who read the story can know when another chapter is up. If you ever want to add anything into the tag, be my guest! If not, I'm not sure why I said anything.


	3. Hopeless Wanderer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean goes back to the bakery to get Connie yet another loaf of pumpernickel bread. At the same time, he takes this chance to get acquainted with the pastry chef he saw the other day. However odds are not really in his favor the very next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very weak and decided that I should post Chapter 2 today. I couldn't wait any longer since I am currently working on Chapter 4 anyways. Chapter 3 will definitely but up on Tuesday as planned.

__"So leave that click in my head_ _

_And I won't remember the words that you said_

_You brought me out from the cold_

_Now, how I long, how I long to grow old"_

_\- Hopeless Wander, Mumford & Sons_

* * *

_Just as predicted, Jean spent all_ day the next day sitting around the house applying aloe vera on his arms and face. He hoped that eventually after living her for so long he could start developing a tan instead of baking in the sun like a goddamn vampire. It took until the fourth day for his studio to be officially set up for him to work. The fifth day was when he actually started using it.

“Seven Nation Army” was currently playing on his iPod while he kept his focus on his canvas. He was painting what he could see from his view, from the Atlantic Ocean to the hundreds of people he could just barely make out. So far he was only painting the water. He sighed and hummed along to the music.

“Jeeeaaan!”

Hearing his name being agonizingly stressed out made him inwardly groan as he turned down his music. “What, Connie?”

“That pumpernickel is gone!” he then heard him whine. “Can you get more?”

He sighed. “Why can’t you get it?”

“Because I’m giving you an excuse to see that pastry chef you said you were going to talk to tomorrow-- four days ago!”

Jean glanced over. “Has it really been five days?”

Connie shrugged. “I dunno, you tell me. Now get going! You can’t tell me that Hitch is the only person in all of Miami that you’re gonna go on ‘dates’ with! By the way, she still hasn’t called.”

“She will!” He got up and put his brushes down. “Alright, I’ll go and get your fucking bread. And I’m getting myself some muffins.”

“Yeah, and some man cakes!” Connie was then laughing his ass off at his own joke when realizing that this pun meant more things than one.

“Fuck off,” he laughed out and left the house. He had a Harley, although sometimes he Connie’s jeep because of the more space that it has to store things. But it took him places and he liked riding it. After slinging a bag over his shoulder and putting on a helmet, he headed towards the familiar street where all the other small businesses were.

He rode his bike until he got to Braun’s Pastries, and he pulled over in between two cars in the parking lot, getting off and placing his helmet in his bag for now. The one to his left looked really refurbished, like it had been taken apart but put back together with some minor faults. He shrugged it off though as being too analytical when he had no idea about mechanics.

When Jean walked into the bakery, he smiled and saw Reiner handing a tray of some rye bread to customers after they had paid. He then looked up when Jean walked in.

“Hey, welcome back.” Reiner clasped his hands together. “How can I help you today?”

“My friend Connie finished that pumpernickel bread, and I think he might be an addict now.”

“That so?” he chuckled. “So, one loaf of pumpernickel. You’ll have to wait another half hour.”

“That’s alright,” Jean said. “Also, can I have muffins?”

He smiled in response. “Pretty vague request. What kind? Blueberry? Banana?”

“Blueberry’s fine.”

“Perfect. Now those are already done.” Reiner took four out from the display and wrapped them up before setting them in a brown bag. He rang up that as well as a loaf for the pumpernickel so that Jean could then pay for that. “You’re all set. If you want, you can wait right over at that bench for the bread. Or we can call you.”

“Nah, I’ll stay,” he smiled and sat on the bench, holding his muffins. “I can eat a couple of these while I wait.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Jean waited there silently and stared down at his muffins. They looked really good, so he went and grabbed one. Boy, did it taste amazing. He tried savoring every bite, and as he glanced back over at the counter, he nearly choked on a piece in his mouth.

There was that hot guy again. Connie was right. He really did work here. He talked to some customers and gave them a bright smile. His eyes were a soft, dark brown, full of warmth and life. He waved because Jean left out that little detail that the couple left the bakery. And of course he was looking right at him.

Jean smiled sheepishly as he waved at him. He was cute. When he was beckoned closer he gulped before getting up and walking back over, holding his bag of muffins.

“Uh… hi.” He shifted.

“Hi,” the other smiled. “Are you waiting for your order?”

“Yeah, pumpernickel bread.”

A nod. “Are you new around here?”

“I just finally got settled in my house. So that’s a yes.”

He laughed at something Jean said, so he must be doing a good job. “Well, welcome to Miami. My name is Marco.”

They shook hands and smiled. Jean cleared his throat. “And I’m Jean.”

“Nice to meet you, Jean.”

“You too.”

Marco… the name had a nice ring to it. It rolled off the tongue. _Marco…_

Speaking of him, Marco went back to his job. Damn, that was a very extravagant cake. It was red velvet with bright frosting and designs, as well as it having two tiers.

“I didn’t know you guys made wedding cakes too.”

“What?” Marco glanced over and laughed. “No, that’s a birthday cake.”

“That’s one very fancy birthday cake,” he insisted. “Who’s it for? The governor?”

“My sister,” he grinned. “She turned twenty-four today.”

“Nice. Well, happy birthday to her.”

Marco smiled and decorated the cake. He kept glancing up at Jean. “Hey. What’s on your arm there?”

“Huh?” He glanced down at his arm and noticed a streak of blue paint on his arm. “Oh. That’s just paint.”

“Paint?” His eyes had a sudden twinkle in them. “So you’re an artist?”

“Yep.” He nodded. “I actually came down here to gather some more inspiration.”

“Cool.” Marco smiled. “I draw, but I don’t paint. I’m not that great at it. That’s why I decorate cakes instead.”

“That’s a nice art to keep yourself busy.”

He nodded and glanced up at the time. “Oh. It’s my lunch hour now.”

“Gotcha. And I gotta wait for my--”

“Your pumpernickel.” Reiner spoke up after putting the loaf in a brown bag.

Jean looked over and smiled. “Well hey, turns out I’m free.”

Marco grinned. “What a stroke of luck. Since you’re now free, wanna go to lunch? It’s nowhere special, just a bar and grill on the beach.”

He blinked after taking the loaf from him and putting it in his bag. “Sure. I’m pretty hungry.”

Reiner looked over at them again. “Marco, are you sure you wanna go there today? There’s a lot of traffic.”

“You’re right,” he sighed and then looked over at his boss. “We can eat here.”

Jean heard Reiner sigh heavily, but he was not entirely sure why. He just shrugged and smiled as Marco led him back over to the bench.

“Are those muffins in that other bag?”

He shifted and nodded. “Yeah. They’re blueberry.” He took one of them out. “Want one?”

Marco nodded and smiled as he gave him one of them. “Thanks. Blueberry is my favorite.” He took a bite from it. “Delicious. Reiner’s so good at baking.”

“Don’t you bake too though, Marco?”

“I do, just not so much bread and a lot more desserts.” He took another bite. “Last week I got a call from a huge wedding cake company. My salary could have been double this. But I turned them down yesterday.”

“If it paid more, then why did you turn down their offer?”

“It’s not about the money,” he said. "I love working for Reiner. And I get to talk to amazing people here and make new friends.”

Jean nodded. “I suppose that’s a very valid reason to want to stay here.”

He smiled. “Hey. You said you just moved here. Where are you from originally?”

“I was born and raised in Berkeley Township, New Jersey. I bought my parents’ summer house from them.”

“Wait, New Jersey?” he tilted his head. “Like the Jersey Shore, New Jersey?”

“Ha. Kind of.” Jean chuckled. “I lived about fifteen minutes away from where MTV filmed that show.”

“Cool!” he smiled. “So do you know those Shore people?”

“Hell no,” he laughed. “I don’t need any drama, thank you. It’s really fun being there though, even though half the boardwalk is still not rebuilt yet.”

Marco tilted his head. “What happened?”

“Superstorm Sandy. It was devastating for my community and areas around us.”

“Oh.” His eyes widened. “I didn’t think New Jersey got storms like that. I’m really sorry.”

“Hey, it’s cool.” That comment was a little bit strange. He was pretty sure that everyone knew about Sandy. Especially since the storm was a hurricane here in this area. Oh well. “I mean, it was not a _huge_ natural disaster by the time it got to us. It could’ve been much worse. But yeah. Like you said, we usually don't get storms like that. And the structures of most buildings along the water couldn't handle it.”

“I see.” Marco looked in the brown bag. “Hey. I see you have two more muffins.”

“Yep. Wanna share?”

He nodded. “Let’s have a race. The one who finishes their muffin first wins.”

“What’s the prize?” Jean asked.

“Do you smoke?”

He nodded. “I do.”

“Winner takes the rest of the other’s pack. My fingers are crossed on this one.”

“I bet I’m gonna win.” Jean took one of the muffins out. “Ready?”

“Go!”

He saw Marco quickly start eating his muffin. “Hey! I thought you--” He cut himself off by starting to eat his muffin as well.

It probably wasn’t that much of a pretty sight seeing two grown men wolfing down blueberry muffins, but it was obvious they didn’t care. They were just facing each other and trying so hard not to laugh at each other while their faces were stuffed. Marco had to slow down so could swallow, but Jean kept going.

“You know that if you throw up, it doesn’t count, right?”

“Nar, I gawt dis.” Jean talked with food in his mouth and continued eating. He gulped down what was in his mouth so that he could eat more.

It was a really close finish. Marco was the one that ended up winning, and Jean coughed when swallowing the last bit. He heard Marco laugh amidst his struggle.

“I told you to be careful.”

“No,” he sputtered. “You actually told me that it doesn’t count if I throw up.” He fished in his pocket. “Shit. My cigarettes aren’t with me. Can I give you the pack tomorrow?”

“Sure,” he nodded and got up. “I’d better get back to work now. It’s been really nice talking to you, Jean.”

“Yeah. It was for me too, Marco.” He smiled. “Hey. When should I give you the pack? What time?”

“Oh, I get off of work at four-thirty. Maybe after you pay my debt, would you like to go and grab some coffee?”

Jean blushed. “Yeah. Definitely, that sounds great.”

“Awesome.” Marco went back behind the counter. “So tomorrow, four-thirty. Don’t forget the smokes.”

“I won’t,” he insisted. “Bye, Marco.” He threw out the empty bag that had the muffins in it and still held the pumpernickel bread. As he walked to his motorcycle he had a skip in his step. “Yes!”

He spun around to get his helmet back on and ended up hitting his foot on the side of his bike. He cursed under his breath from that. Glancing back at the bakery, he saw Marco smiling from inside. He was probably laughing at him. Jean hurried onto his bike and rode home, a little embarrassed but also knowing that Connie was probably dying to have this pumpernickel bread.

As he got back inside once at home, he heard Connie laughing and talking in the other room. He was probably on the phone with Sasha. He was glad that they really were hitting it off, however he was not going to regret interrupting their conversation.

“Connie!” he called out and put the loaf down on the kitchen counter. “I got the pumpernickel!”

“About fucking time!” He rushed downstairs with the phone to his ear while being held up by his shoulder. “I’ve been waiting for almost two hours!”

Jean shrugged. “Well you told me to talk to the pastry chef.”

Connie glanced up when hearing his response. “Okay Sasha, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you in a little bit, okay? Yep. Bye.” He hung up his phone and put it down on the counter. “So loverboy, how’d it go?”

“Great, actually.” Jean’s face was a little red. “We spent his lunch break talking and he is a really great guy. His name is Marco.”

“Marco, huh?” he smiled. “I guess he didn’t run away screaming like I know you probably thought he would do.”

“Exactly. He didn’t.” Jean sighed and slumped down in one of the chairs at the table. “I’m gonna see him tomorrow after he gets off from work. He’s gonna take me out for coffee.”

“Nice.” He patted his back. “Shall we ring the wedding bells?”

“Connie!” Jean blushed and shoved him half-heartedly. “It’s just going to be a little coffee date.”

“Well, you’re the one saying you really want to be in an intimate relationship. Now’s your chance!”

He snorted. “‘S just a coffee date. No one ever said that this is going to be it, you know.”

Connie shrugged. “Yeah, but no one said that it isn’t, either.”

Just as he finished talking Jean’s phone rang. He was a little started, but he quickly answered it. “Hello?”

“Hey, Jean.” It was Hitch.

Recognizing her voice immediately, Jean smiled. “Hey, how are you?”

“Great. We just got settled here in New York.”

“Nice,” he smiled. “I hope you had a safe flight.”

“I did.” She sighed. “You’re a really nice friend. So I’m calling to tell you that in September I’m going back down for Labor Day. If you wanna hang out and you’re in town, I’d be happy to walk along the beach with you again. I’ll bring two sun hats this time around.”

“That sounds great.” Jean smiled and continued talking to her over the phone. “Great… Bye, _Hitch_.” He hung up and smiled when seeing Connie’s jaw drop. He hurried to take a picture of his facial expression. “Told ya!”

“Damn it.” Connie sighed. “I owe Eren forty bucks.”

Jean laughed. “Owned! Can I get a holla?”

He grumbled out a quiet “holla” and let Jean gloat. After all, it wasn’t every day that Jean was this lucky with relationships. He was glad as long as that poor, sweet sap was.

\--

 _Jean checked to make sure that_ the pack of cigarettes was indeed in his pocket. That would really suck if he didn’t have it. He owed Marco that. Honestly he was not even sure how he should have dressed for the occasion, but he accepted his jeans and sleeveless shirt. After checking the clock and seeing that it was quarter past four, he got his keys and smiled.

“Bye, Connie! I’m going out!”

He and Sasha were sitting on the couch playing Call of Duty.

“Jean, shut up! You’re blowing my concentration!” Sasha groaned.

Connie was trying to play as well. “Motherfucker! Jean, when you get back, make sure to get more pumpernickel!”

“Ask me that same question next week.” Jean shook his head. “See you later.”

He closed the door just as he heard Sasha shout out “Connie, you let the bastard get away!” He laughed to himself and got into Connie's jeep. He wouldn't even notice it was gone, that poor soul. He turned the radio up while he drove. He was very excited to see Marco today and go on that date with him.

As Jean sang along out of key to the music on the radio,  he saw that he was at the bakery. He pulled into the parking lot and walked inside. Right on time--it was four twenty-five. And just like he knew he would be, Marco was starting to clean up, a cake box set on top of the counter. He set his apron aside, and Jean took a deep breath as he walked over and took the pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

“Hey.” He put the pack down and shifted it closer to Marco’s side of the counter. “Here.”

Marco blinked and looked at the pack. “Sir, what are you doing? There’s no smoking inside the bakery.”

He chuckled. “Marco, stop playing. Or do we have to stuff our faces with muffins again?”

His face then contorted into such a confused and at the same time irritated expression. “Excuse me?”

Jean was not entirely sure what he was doing, but he was starting to feel a little bit uneasy. “Marco, come on. Let’s just go and grab some coffee.”

“Another thing, how do you know my name? What the hell are you talking about? Who are you?”

“It’s me, Jean. We talked yesterday--”

“Yesterday?” Marco stopped him. “Listen, you got the wrong guy. I don’t know who you are.”

He flinched. He didn’t know him? But they just talked yesterday. They shared muffins, told life stories, and arranged a date. How could he say that he didn’t know him, just like that?

“Marco…”

He turned his head. “Reiner? There’s this creep here.” He shoved the pack of cigarettes away from himself. “Here. Take your cigarettes.”

Jean had no idea what the fuck was going on. But just as he was about to speak again, he felt strong hands grab at his shoulders. He yanked him back, and he flinched and tried struggling.

“Reiner, hey! Let me go!”

Marco carried the large box in his hands. “I’m gonna go, okay? Gotta get this cake back home for Ymir.”

“You go do that,” Reiner said.

Meanwhile Jean was even more confused. “...How many fucking sisters does he have?”

“Jean.” He looked down as he dragged him out. “Go home.”

“What?” He glanced towards the door. “Why? Marco and I had a date.”

“Not anymore, you don’t.”

Jean stared up at the sign and then turned around to watch Marco’s car leave. “...Why?”

“Just go home, Jean,” he sighed. “And don’t come back here for a while.”

He bit his lip. “But wait. Reiner, what just happened?”

Before he could get an answer, Reiner shut the door on him. Jean looked over at his car and slowly walked to it. He was in a daze and wanted answers. However he did not want to get into a fight with him. So he just got onto his bike and went home.

“I’m coming back tomorrow,” he decided. “Then they’ll have to tell me why the fuck that just happened.”

\--

 _Marco figured that he probably should_ not tell his family about the creep in the bakery today. That was just really weird, and it was not likely to happen again tomorrow. He was pretty sweaty from the weather being a bit warmer than usual for this time of year.

He pulled up to a small beach house right along a dock. Now he felt better already. He was home, and he was going to celebrate Ymir’s birthday. Just as he got out, she stepped outside that house and smiled once looking at him.

“Hey, need help?”

Marco smiled. “Yeah. I got this box here.” He opened the back door and started taking the cake out from where he placed it on the seat.

AS she helped her brother, her face lit up. “Hey, it’s my cake.”

“Yep.” They both took it inside. “It’s a surprise what flavor it is, though.”

“Can’t wait.” Ymir nodded, and they placed the cake down on the kitchen counter once inside. Marco then figured that maybe he should at least tell her about this guy. He was still a little bit weirded out. Their fathers weren’t nearby, so they wouldn’t overhear.

“Hey Ymir? Can I tell you something real quick? It’s about this one customer at work.”

She propped her elbow on the counter. “What’s up, Marco?”

He sighed. “There was this really weird guy there once I started cleaning up. He handed me a pack of cigarettes and started talking about strange things, like stuffing muffins in our faces, I think? And he expected to me to go out with him for coffee.”

There was a troubled expression on her face, but she shrugged it off and crossed her arms. “What a freak.”

“Right? You don’t think he’ll try doing that again tomorrow, do you?”

“Nah, I think he got the message.” She rubbed his back a bit. “Krista’s coming over today.”

“Great!” he smiled and went in the living room. “Where’s Dad?”

“Well Dad is finishing up his job and heading home, and Pa’s watching TV.” They both referred to their fathers, Levi and Erwin, by different names so that they could tell them apart. It was much better than just calling out “Dad!” and have both of them come running when you just wanted to talk to one of them.

“Alright.” He walked over to the living room and grinned when seeing his father on the couch. “Hi, Pa.” He plopped on the couch next to him.

Erwin glanced over when he came in and smiled while wrapping his arm around him. “Hey, Marco. How was work?”

“It was great.” That wasn’t entirely a lie. “Reiner said that tomorrow we have a big order of cupcakes to fill for a birthday party. That, and there is a customer with a passionate love for pumpernickel bread.”

“Pumpernickel, huh?” he chuckled. “Well, that’s different.”

“Yeah.” He smiled and looked over at the TV. “Whatcha watching?”

He kicked his feet up on the coffee table. “ _Keeping Up with the Kardashians_.”

Marco tilted his head, very amused. “Why?”

Erwin shrugged. “Nothing else was on.”

“Dad better not see your feet on the coffee table,” he warned. “He’ll flip.”

“Ah, he’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure about that?”

They both turned their heads towards the back door when hearing the other voice, seeing Levi cross his arms and stare Erwin down.

“Uh…” Marco stuttered and then quickly pointed at the other. “Pa did it!”

The blonde held his arms up. “Way to throw me under the bus, Marco.”

“But you did!” he laughed.

Levi sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Erwin… just get your feet down, that’s disgusting.”

“Sorry.” He put his feet down and laughed nervously. He then turned the TV down. “Krista should be here soon, right?”

Ymir nodded as she walked in. “Yep. She’s on her way now.” She looked over at Marco and grinned as she sat next to him. “Can’t wait to try the cake.”

“There will be no cake tasting until a picture of it is taken.” Levi grabbed an old Polaroid camera. “You know the rules.”

“Okay, then afterwards I can lick the middle of it, right?”

“Ymir!” Marco laughed and shoved his older sister playfully. “That’s disgusting!”

She shook her head. “Nah, don’t worry. The cake is safe.”

“Phew!” He leaned against her. “‘M hungry.”

Erwin hoisted himself up. “I think the pot roast is almost done.”

Marco smiled. “Ooo, pot roast.”

The two siblings fought over who controlled the remote--with Ymir winning of course, because she was the arm wrestling champion, and they watched some TV. She tried to stay geared towards movie channels that were playing films made before 2012, but these days it was getting a little harder to do. Thankfully, she was able to find and put on an older movie that boosted up Marco’s interest: _The Shining_.

About half-way through Krista came over. She sat on the couch next to Ymir and occasionally hid her face in her shoulder whenever a suspenseful event occurred. Dinner was ready, so they all ate at the coffee table, despite how many times Levi told them to eat at the kitchen table.

"Want any hints on the birthday cake flavor?" Marco asked as they ate.

Krista glanced at him. "I might. Your cakes are really good."

"I bet it's chocolate."

Marco gasped. "Ymir! How'd you know?"

Every other day it was either chocolate cake or red velvet. "It was a lucky guess."

"Oh." He frowned and finished eating his pot roast. "I wanted to keep it a surprise."

Krista looked over and smiled. "That's okay. There's always the next birthday when you can keep it a surprise."

"You're right," he nodded. "Well hey now we can go ahead and eat it."

"Wait." Ymir glanced back at the kitchen as Krista nuzzled her neck. "Hey Pa, did Dad take a picture of the cake?" She ran her hand through her girlfriend's hair. "We wanna eat now!"

"Hang on..." Erwin paused and they all then heard the click of the camera. "Okay, let's dig in!"

Marco got up first and rushed over to the kitchen. "I win!"

"Since when was this a race?" Ymir laughed and held hands with Krista as they walked in. "Can I cut the cake at least?"

"Don't forget the candles first." Levi placed a number two and a number four candle on the top tier. Funny, because Ymir was now twenty-six. And her birthday had passed almost four months earlier.

After the candles were lit they sang for Ymir. It had become such a natural routine, and so they did their best not to try changing it for Marco's sake. Afterwards Ymir blew the candles out and cut the cake, giving one piece to each person. They all ate together, this time at the kitchen table.

Marco continued eating his piece of cake. "Hey. Tomorrow we should all go to the beach. Walk along the sand a little bit. Does that sound fun?"

They looked at him in silence for a few seconds. They knew what was going to end up happening tomorrow anyways despite the plans he just made now.

Levi was the one that cleared his throat and answered. "Yeah, Marco. That does sound fun. We should get up early and do that, right?"

"Mhm!" He nodded and smiled. "Should we get ready now?"

"No, we can do all that in the morning," Erwin insisted. "It's no problem. We'll just have to get up a little earlier."

"Perfect!" He got up and cleared off the table.

Krista meanwhile looked over at Ymir. "Are you guys ever gonna try telling him again?" she insisted. "It's been months since you had."

She shrugged while leading her over by the door. "I don't know... There seems to be no easy way to break this to him. No matter how hard we try."

"Surely there has to be a way to."

"Maybe, but we're pretty stuck when it comes to that. But I know, it's not good for him to keep living the same day over and over."

Krista nodded. "It's okay. Hopefully you'll all find a new approach soon."

As Ymir rubbed Krista's arm they exchanged a soft kiss. The smile that they shared was warm and sweet.

"Someday," Ymir murmured, "I'm gonna marry you."

Her girlfriend blushed and nudged her shoulder. "I can't wait for that."

"I know." They kissed again before starting to head out. "Dad, Pa, we're leaving!"

Erwin waved and smiled. "See you tomorrow."

"Happy birthday, Ymir! Remember your sunglasses for the beach!" Marco finished the dishes and took a deep breath. He glanced over at his parents. "Okay. I'm gonna go to bed."

"Get some sleep." Levi turned off the lights in the kitchen. "See you in the morning."

"Alright." He then hugged Erwin. "G'night Pa."

"Good night, Marco."

He smiled and walked over to the stairs. "Night, Dad. Love you!"

"I love you too." Levi waited until the door to Marco's room closed before he went over to where what remained of the birthday cake was on the counter. "He really outdid himself with this one."

"Yeah, it was great." Erwin picked up the box and threw away the cake after getting himself another large piece. "Shame we can't save it."

"Next time we'll have to see if his friends want any." He sighed. "They miss his baking."

"Yeah." At that point Erwin walked over to the pantry after taking some bites from his piece. Inside it there were hundreds of newspapers dated February 17th 2012. He took one out to put outside on the porch. "Levi, can you check the weather?"

He nodded after stealing a couple bites from Erwin's cake and turned on the TV, keeping it at a low volume. He listened to the weekly forecast. "It's gonna rain tomorrow."

"So much for the beach," Erwin chuckled dryly.

"Oh well." After everything was turned off they finished that piece together while trying to fight over the last crumb. They both then went upstairs holding hands. Levi sighed "I guess the only good thing about this would have to be that I feel two years younger."

"True," he smiled. "Well Levi, ready for another birthday?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," was the grumble in response.

All was quiet for the rest of the night. The next day Marco was going to think once again that it was Ymir's birthday. Every day it was the same. And that was not going to change any time soon.


	4. Land of Opportunity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean finds out about Marco's condition through Reiner. He is told to stay away, however he has already fallen pretty hard for him. He hopes to maybe get the connection that they had the first day they talked, and he is willing to spend days on end of failed attempts to see it again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _"You said 'hello', I loved you so,_  
>  I felt like a kid again.  
> I want you to know, I had to let go  
> I'm falling in love again."  
> \- Land of Opportunity, A Great Big World

_Jean told himself that he was_ going to find out what was going on with Marco, and the very next day he drove through the rain that morning in Connie's car. He wanted answers, and he was not going to let anyone keep them from him.

The Braun’s Pastries sign was still visible even through the pouring rain and the windshield wipers constantly cascading endless rain droplets away from Jean’s view. He made no hesitations to get out of the car and stepped out after pulling a hood over his head. He made sure his jacket was zipped up all the way, because after the date yesterday got “cancelled” so to speak, he decided to get his clavicle piercings done on his collarbone. He was trying to get used to having them.

He casually stepped inside the bakery and pulled his hood back down once inside. There was Reiner, kneading some dough. And Marco was not too far off, putting frosting on a batch of cupcakes. He planned to confront him and get to the bottom of this.

When Jean came up to the counter, Marco just _smiled._ “Hello, Sir. How can I help you today?”

It was like _nothing ever happened._ “Listen, what the hell was that about yesterday?”

“Huh?” He tilted his head. “I don’t recall ever seeing you yesterday” He laughed softly, a typical ice breaker.

“Cut the bullshit, Marco,” he snapped. “Why did you go ape shit yesterday? You were the one that _planned_ the fucking date.”

The poor guy had no idea what he was talking about. He felt a little panicked and looked to his right. “Reiner?!”

He glanced up. “What’s wrong, Marco?”

“Reiner, this guy’s crazy,” he gasped.

“What?” Jean glanced back at them. “The hell? _You’re_ the one that’s crazy!”

At this point Reiner grabbed him, and Jean winced a bit from the new piercings. “Alright buddy, let’s go.”

“No!” Jean struggled. “No, I want answers!”

“I will talk to you outside.” He muttered and then looked up. “Watch the bakery for a few minutes, Marco. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of this guy for you.”

“...Okay.” Marco stayed where he was as Reiner dragged Jean outside.

“In my truck,” Reiner muttered and took him over to his pickup.

Once Jean was in the passenger seat he shook out his soaked hair. “Okay, now what the fuck is going on?”

Reiner sighed. “Listen. Jean, you can’t just snap at Marco like that and be mad at him for this. It’s not his fault.”

“What are you talking about?” He was getting more irritated.

“Marco is a special case, Jean. There… there’s something wrong with his brain.”

Taking that to consideration, the irritation started to melt back into confusion. “What happened, then? What’s wrong with his brain?”

He moved his hand to the steering wheel. Jean could see that this was very hard for him to bring up or talk about. “It happened two years ago, Ymir’s birthday. That’s his sister in case you didn’t catch on. He went about his normal day at work. He took care of orders, decorated her birthday cake, exactly like you saw him doing the other day. On his way home, one of his fathers… I think it was Levi. Well, he called him--”

“So wait, Marco has two dads?” Jean interrupted.

Reiner narrowed his eyes. “You told me to tell you what happened, and your big revelation is that he has two fathers?”

“No no, sorry,” he stammered. “I just didn’t know that. You can continue, Reiner.”

“You sure? No more dumb interruptions, okay? This is serious.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “Sorry.”

Reiner took his time to recollect himself. “Where was I? Oh. Levi called him because Erwin forgot to get the liquor for Ymir. According to Annie, it happened after he got it. There was an accident. The other driver was texting and ran through a red light. They hit Marco from the passenger side, and when his car skidded he was then hit from the front. He received a severe head injury that almost killed him.”

He stiffened while listening to him. Well if he knew that earlier, he wouldn’t have acted like such an asshole earlier, depending on what was wrong with Marco. But hearing “head injury” made it sound that whatever happened definitely was not good.

“He has Anterograde Amnesia,” Reiner continued. “The doctors said the accident damaged the area of his brain that stores short-term memory. He can’t remember anything that happens every day since his accident.”

The confusion came back again. “Wait… that means that he forgets everything?”

“No, he still has his long-term memory. That’s a different area of the brain. But every day he wakes up thinking it is Friday, February 17th, 2012.”

“Wait, what about news?” Jean said. “And TV?”

“They’re very careful about what’s playing on TV after Marco gets home from work. They never let him control the remote. As for the newspaper, they have hundreds of copies from that day.”

“But why have him keep reliving the same day when he could just have someone explain everything to him? Wouldn’t that be easier, and less stressful?”

Reiner gripped the steering wheel. “It’s not that easy for any of us, Jean. His friends have no idea how to let him know about their lives, myself included. His sister Ymir and her girlfriend Krista want to validate their relationship and have kids, but that’d be quite a shock for Marco to find that out every day, right? He thinks that my life partner and I have only been dating for a week. Plus his best friend is dating someone Marco has never met before the accident, just like he hadn’t met you.”

“Shit,” Jean sighed and looked down. “I’m sorry, Reiner. I didn’t realize--”

“No, don’t you start blaming yourself and feel sorry,” he groaned. “You didn’t know. You just moved here.”

“Okay,” he sighed. “But what do I do then? With Marco and everything.”

Reiner opened the car door. “I suggest not coming back for a while. Only come here if you want food. Mainly just for Connie’s pumpernickel bread.”

“But…” He trailed off and slumped back in the seat. “Okay.”

They both got out, and Jean stayed outside. Reiner was just expecting him to stay out of Marco’s life? But what if he wanted to be a part of it? They weren’t going to keep him away this easily, that’s for sure.

\--

_“So wait… He doesn’t remember you_ at all?”

“He _can’t,_ Connie,” Jean corrected. “His memory of the present gets erased while he sleeps and he still thinks it’s 2012.”

The rain had stopped by about five in the afternoon, and Jean was sitting on the beach with Connie, Sasha, Armin, Eren, and Mikasa. Connie had just listened to Marco’s story.

“2012 was such a bad year,” Eren grumbled.

“Tell me about it. “Jean took a swig of the beer in his hand.

Sasha crossed her legs and raised her sunglasses up. “Reiner told you not to see him again, right?”

“Yep. But I’m gonna do it anyways.”

“Jean, don’t.” Armin shook his head. “His family is going through enough trouble as it is. They don’t need any more stress because suddenly a person he’s never met has feelings for him.”

“But he fell pretty hard for Marco, I think.” Connie glanced at Jean. “I know that look.”

“You know what I’m gonna do?” His face lit up as he got an idea. “I’m gonna get Marco to have the same feelings he felt for me that first day we talked. I’m going to get him to like me again.”

“But Jean, he’s not going to remember y--”

“I know, Mikasa.” He looked down. “But it doesn’t hurt to try and keep seeing him or talking to him. Maybe that will help him realize who I am sooner. There was this connection we had when we first talked, and I know that I can get that again if I try.”

The five of them gave one another an unsure look but otherwise did not protest to this idea that was forming in Jean’s head.

Armin sighed. “Well, you sure can try.”

“Yeah.” Sasha crossed her arms.

Jean put the bottle down and took out a cigarette, lighting it.

“Jean, you’re seriously going to smoke on the beach?”

“Uh-huh.” He smoked and just looked at them while they gave him a dumbfounded look. “If it helps, I’ll just put the butt back in the pack when I’m done, so I’m not littering.”

Mikasa read the book she had been holding and turned the page. “Better do that before authorities get to you first.”

“I’ll be fine,” he smirked after puffing out another lazy cloud of smoke. “Not to worry. I’m an expert.”

“Hey expert.” Connie poked him. “Did you bring your SPF seventy-five?”

His cheeks then reddened. “Fuck!”

The others laughed as he pouted and left the cigarette hanging from his mouth for a minute before resuming. He was going to get badly burnt out here.

\--

_Despite how stiff and red his_ arms were the next day, Jean still went to see Marco at Braun’s Pastries. Upon stepping in though, Reiner’s eyes immediately darkened once they laid on him. He was definitely not so much a welcomed guest here today. No matter, he was here to see Marco.

Speaking of him, he was taking Danishes and placing them on the display. He was concentrating on his task, and Jean tried to think. How did he get his attention before? He just said “hi,” right? So he could just do that. It was worth a shot.

“Uh… hi.”

Marco was startled and dropped a couple of the remaining pastries on the floor. “Damn it.” He knelt down and glanced over at Jean. “Seriously? There is another worker here. These aren’t exactly easy microwavable pastries that I can just replace in a snap, you know.”

He probably should not have tried getting his attention while he was working on something. “Oh. Sorry.”

“Next time, please be more considerate and patient when you see that someone is obviously working. I have no time for stupid interruptions that can cause stupid things like this.”

Reiner _snorted_ while listening to his co-worker.

“Sorry.” Jean was blushing while he stepped away and towards the door. “I’m sorry, Sir.” He stepped out and headed towards his car. “I’m such an idiot!”

\--

_After three days of trying that_ same strategy just saying “hi,” Jean decided to a take a different approach. When stepping in he noticed Reiner diligently talking to a taller, dark-skinned man. They were both smiling while they spoke, and judging by the way they were looking at each other they were much more than just acquaintances. Jean took a guess that this must be Reiner’s life partner.

Reiner looked over when seeing him and then turned back to his companion. “Hey Bert, this is the guy I was talking to you about.”

“‘The guy’ has a name,” Jean muttered. “Care to introduce me to the other hen?”

Bert laughed sheepishly, sweat beading on his forehead. “Hello. I’m Bertholdt. You can just call me Bert.”

He nodded as they shook his hand. “Name’s Jean.”

“I know,” he nodded. “And I’m seriously wondering where you’re exactly going with this.”

He smiled. “You’ll see.”

Reiner tapped his partner’s shoulder. “Hey Bert. I’ll bet you thirty bucks that Marco makes him leave. He did that for like, four days already. Not counting the other two days where Jean had no idea what his condition was.”

“That’s a risky bet, but you’re on.”

“Oh great.” Jean pursed his lips. “It’s become a gamble.”

“Alright, now look pretty,” Reiner smiled. “Here he comes from his lunch break.”

He glanced over and saw Marco walk in and smiled. He sighed and smiled. “Hey, Reiner. And… Bertholdt, is it?”

Bert nodded. “Yeah. How are you, Marco?”

“Great.” He went behind the counter and put on his apron, rolling up his sleeves.

That was when Jean decided to swoop in. He walked over to the counter. “Hey excuse me, can I talk to you about something for a moment? I need some insight, and you seem like a helpful source.”

Marco looked up. “Insight on what, Sir?”

“You see, I’m thinking of getting a new body piercing, and as you can see, I have quite a few already.”

“Oh really?” He looked at Jean up and down. “Didn’t notice.”

“Very funny.” He chuckled and felt his lip, his fingers brushing against the piercing there. “I got the Industrial yesterday, and I have my clavicles here. Judging by these and the others on my ears, what else should I get?”

He pondered a bit and held his head up while propping his elbows on the counter. “Depends on how daring you are.”

“Well hey, if you’re looking for daring I’m your guy. Like I said, I just need your insight.”

“Insight from a stranger, _very_ smart,” he mused. “Now, you know what I think? I think you should get a piercing on your dick.”

For a second there, Jean lost the color in his face. “M-my dick?”

“Mmhm.” He watched him. “Right on the dick.”

“I…” Jean stepped back. “O-on second thought, I’m gonna go and ask someone else.”

“Oh. Okay.” Marco frowned as he watched him quickly leave. “Hey, the guy wanted my insight.” He had an innocent tone until he looked at Reiner and shrugged. “I was gonna tell him about my Prince Albert.”

Poor, unsuspecting Bertholdt almost choked on his coffee. “ _You_ have a Prince Albert?”

“Well yeah,” he grinned. “I got it two months ago”--which of course meant he actually got it December of 2012--”and since I’ve been single I had time for it to heal. So yep. I have a Prince Albert.”

“And you highly recommend it?” Reiner asked.

“Of course. It’s supposed to spice things up in the bedroom, but I also got it because whenever someone will ask me ‘How tough are you?’ I’ll tell them about my piercing.”

His eyebrows arched up and he then glanced at his lover. “Maybe you should get a Prince Albert.”

“N-no way!” Bert blushed. “If anyone gets one, it’s gonna be you, Reiner!”

“You guys are having sex already? It’s only been a week.”

They both went silent, and Reiner was the one to break the silence with a nervous laugh. “Are relationship is spicy.”

“Yeah… Spicy.”

“Oh.” Marco shrugged and smiled. “Okay. Do what you want, I guess.” He tended to a customer that just walked in as the other two sighed in relief.

\--

_Once again Jean went back to_ the bakery, and he did before Marco would leave for lunch. Another week of doing this gave him more ideas on how to positively get his attention… even though they all failed. This time he had gotten take-out for him to eat, so maybe food could help him out. He walked over to the counter. “Delivery for Marco Bodt.”

“That’s me!” He called out just as he took his apron off. He tilted his head when looking at the bag. “Funny, I didn’t order Thai food.”

“‘S already paid for, someone else ordered it,” he said. “Got it for you.”

“Really?” He crossed his arms. “Who?”

“An anonymous… admirer.”

“Oh brother.” Reiner rolled his eyes and put bread in the oven.

Marco pursed his lips. “I see. I’ll take it.” He took the bag from him and looked at the food. “Well, they got me chicken. Very nice.” He opened the container.

Jean watched him get a fork. He figured that he might have done it this time around. His heart was racing, however it was only from excitement for the first few seconds. Now it was from anxiety once Reiner quickly grabbed Marco’s arm to stop him from bringing the food to his mouth.

“Marco, don’t eat that!” he warned. “It’s got peanut curry in it.”

“Oh shit.” He dropped his fork. He quickly looked up at Jean. “Who sent this?”

He was stumped. "Uh… s-so you don’t like peanuts?”

“I’m _allergic._ Did the person that order this give you their name? I have a bone to pick with this ‘admirer.’”

Jean knew that he’d better leave. “I’ll speak to my… manager, and we’ll give you any details on the one that ordered this. Er yeah, I’m gonna go.” He stepped out quickly. “Note to self: Never give him peanuts or _anything_ with them in it. That was some fucking slick move Jean, you asshole.”

\--

_“Connie, I’m fresh out of ideas.”_ Jean stared at his canvas, painting in the rest of the scenery of the beach.

“Hey, don’t give up yet,” he said. “You’ve been trying so hard.”

“I know, but nothing is working.” He groaned and slumped back in his seat. “What was in the mail?”

Connie handed him the letters. “Here.”

He opened the first envelope. “Fuck, _more_ student loans?”

“Well hey, it happens.” Connie sat in a chair and turned up the music.

“Why can’t I just push a giant button that will just kill this debt with fire?”

“Because the world doesn’t work like that,” he sarked.

Jean sighed. “I think I need to raise the prices on my commissions.”

“Speaking of that, I think this other letter is from one of your clients.”

At hearing that he opened the letter. “Hey wait, it’s not from one of them, it’s from Reiner.” He read it. “He said he wants me to… paint a canvas of the inside of his bakery. He’s paying me three hundred dollars.”

“Well shit. That’s not bad, Jean.”

“Right? Most would offer much less. Wait.” He glanced at Connie. “How does he know our address?”

He watched his friend then shrug. “Well… I dunno.”

“You told him?”

“He sees how hard you’re trying, and he wants to help you out. Plus, if customers see you working on the painting, you can get more clients.”

Jean slowly nodded, getting a little hopeful about his job especially. “That’s perfect! I gotta really thank Reiner for this. I still need to pay off these damn loans, and this will really help.”

“Yeah,” he laughed.

“I’m gonna start this tomorrow then.”

“Awesome.” Connie got up and stepped out of the room. He made a phone call. “Hey Sasha… Yeah, he’s gonna do it. And he’s really excited about it.” He smiled while he listened to Sasha. “Oh hey. Tomorrow, do you want to go out for a bite to eat? My treat… Really? Great. I’ll pick you up at three o’clock, then.”

“Oh, Connie, _yes!_ ”

“Jean!” He moved the phone away from his ear after hearing his friend moan two octaves about his normal range. “Stop!” He moved the phone back. “Sorry about that… Yep, see you then. Bye.” He hung up and grinned. “Oh yeah, I got a date tomorrow!”

“‘S about time you asked her out. For a while there I thought _she_ was gonna ask _you_ out.”

“Haha, that’s probably what would’ve happened. I’d better call for Chinese.”

“You do that.” Jean watched his friend leave and started packing up some paints and brushes for tomorrow.

\--

_He knew that the best way_ to enter the bakery was to act as if he was a total stranger to the two of them. That way he could ease in and make a good impression after two weeks of trying. So at about one in the afternoon, Jean walked into the bakery.

Reiner looked up first. “Hey.”

“Hi,” he waved and went to the bench. “I’m here to paint the commission for the bakery.”

“A painter?” Marco had just put his apron back on after getting back from his lunch break. “Reiner, you hired a painter?”

“Yeah.” He smiled and walked over to Jean. “This is Jean Kirschtein. He’s new in town, but I hired him to paint a canvas of the inside of the bakery.”

“Cool.” He smiled and waved. “Hi, Jean. I’m Marco.”

“Nice to meet you, Marco.” He smiled and set up his canvas, taking out his paints and a pencil. “Okay, I’m gonna start by sketching.”

“Great,” Reiner said. “Do you want me to pay you up front?”

He nodded. “That’s highly recommended.”

“Haha.” His monotonous excuse of laughter made Jean smile. “Hang on, I’ll give you a check.”

As Reiner left he started sketching. He kept looking around the room so he could draw the surrounding areas. However his eyes kept going back over to Marco. He kept watching him work on decorating a cake--probably Ymir's. He was always so intricate with each masterpiece, and calling cakes that really meant a lot.

Marco then looked up and followed his gaze. At that point Jean blushed and diverted his eyes. Shit, he had been spotted. He stared at the hard pencil lines while he heard the man's musical laugh. This must be a good sign.

"Are you sure you're painting the _entire_ bakery?"

He looked up from his sketch. "Well I'm not painting much of anything yet. In a few more minutes I will."

"I'm almost done with this cake for my sister," Marco said. "Afterwards, can I come over and watch?"

Jean nodded and smiled. "Sure, of course."

He messed up on some detail and vigorously erased that area to start over. He heard Marco's laugh again, and it took several minutes to now be ready for painting the canvas. He took out his brushed and some of the acrylic colors. Starting off with painting the floor and walls, he heard footsteps move closer to his work space. _Marco._

"Reiner said you're new in town," Marco started their conversation. "Where are you from?"

Jean stayed focused on the painting. "I'm from New Jersey."

"Wow, that's really far." He sat back on the bench. "What made you decide to come all the way down to Miami?"

“Well my parents owned a summer house in South Beach. I bought it from them. I’ve been trying to look for more inspiration. I painted everywhere along the Jersey Shore, from Sandy Hook to Cape May.”

“Wow. I see.” Marco sounded genuinely intrigued. “I can tell you that Miami is an incredible city. Especially by the water. The scenery is beautiful, and you should definitely find inspiration.”

“Yeah.” Jean smiled and mixed some of the colors to give the floor in the picture more detail. “I just finished painting the view from my studio. I plan on selling it soon.”

“I bet it’s really good.”

“Ah, I guess so,” he shrugged. “Have you lived in Miami all your life then?”

“Not exactly.” Marco paused. “I was born in Arkansas, but then my dads adopted me and my sister after our birth parents passed away. I was three. We traveled a lot, and finally when I was about eleven, we settled down here. Ymir was tired of having to reintroduce herself as the ‘new girl.’”

“I’m sure,” he chuckled. “Why’d you move around so much?”

“No reason. We just always liked going to new places, because you learn a lot. Then we stayed here because we all felt at home here, and we settled down. But… right now I’m looking for a place to call home myself. You know, since it’s really _my_ parents’ home if you think about it. Oh yeah, I still live with them, and I’m twenty-one. Pathetic, huh?”

“No, it’s not,” Jean insisted. “I’m twenty-three, and I just moved out myself. And I have a roommate. It’s no big deal. It just takes time.” If Marco was twenty-one in 2012, that meant that he was now twenty-three as well, maybe twenty-four depending on when his birthday was. That wasn’t too bad. “Don’t worry, Marco. You’ll find a place you can call home. Because once you find that place, you just know.”

“I suppose,” Marco sighed. “You know, you stick your tongue out when you concentrate.”

He blushed a bit. “I do?”

“Yep.” He nodded. “Hey, do you have a tongue piercing? I’m curious.”

Jean shook his head. “Nope. No tongue piercing.”

“Come on. I can count thirteen piercings on your body, and you don’t have a tongue ring?”

“Nope,” he said again. “What are you saying? You have one?”

Marco nodded and smiled as he stuck his tongue out, showing the silver ball that rested on top. “There it is.”

“Oh…” Jean blushed. “Is that the only piercing?”

He shook his head, showing off a toothy grin. “I have six. That one and two surface piercings along each hip.”

“Hey, that’s only five.”

“There’s another one.” Marco’s cheeks reddened as he glanced down at himself briefly. “It would be very impolite to show you here in public.”

Jean’s face then darkened as well. “You… Y-you mean you have one _there?_ ”

He nodded as he laughed. “It’s a Prince Albert. _Which_ by the way I highly recommend… if you are up to the challenge.” He grinned mischievously.

“Yeah, no way. Too scared.” He rubbed his arm.

Marco shrugged. “Well it’s not for everyone.”

Jean continued painting while they made small talk for an hour. Both sets of eyes were focused on the canvas.

“Got any tattoos?” he then asked.

Marco nodded. “If I rolled up my left sleeve more, you would see a tattoo sleeve.”

“Is it of cakes?”

“No,” he laughed. “It’s flowers. I uh, also have a tattoo of a unicorn head on my butt.”

“What?” Jean sputtered. “Repeat that.”

“It’s a green unicorn head. It looks more like an emblem. It’s not directly on my ass, but it’s up by my waist along the left cheek. It looked cool when I saw it, and I still really like it.”

“Nice.” The entire time he was blushing. “I don’t have any.”

“They’re so great, you should get one,” Marco smiled and looked back towards the painting. The background was done, and Jean worked on the counter and displays. “This looks really good.”

“Thank you, Jean smiled. “As hard as it is, I love to paint.”

“And I love decorating cakes.” He sucked in a breath. “Unless… if you don’t think that is an art.”

“Hey, they don’t call it ‘culinary arts’ for nothing, am I right?”

“Yeah,” Marco grinned. “Yeah, you’re right.”

They continued their small talk, even after Reiner handed him his check and he finished what he could do for the day. Even when the canvas was set to dry before he had to leave. This felt so nice. After all this time trying to get this connection back, it finally happened. And Jean didn’t even try this time. He loved this perfect closeness between them, quickly reminding Jean that he had developed feelings for Marco that was slowly building ever since that first day when they talked.

It was then four o’clock. Jean was already packed up and wished the time did not have to pass this quickly. He didn’t want to leave Marco again. That meant he would forget about him all over again. He was so tempted to take his hand and keep him by his side, but he resisted.

“This painting, is coming along so great,” Marco smiled.

“Thanks. I’ll have this finished by tomorrow.”

“Cool!”

They both smiled as they made eye contact. Marco shifted a little closer, making Jean blush of course.

“It was really nice talking to you, Jean,” he smiled.

“Y-yeah,” Jean stammered. “It was for me too. You’re very nice.”

“Thanks,” he grinned.

Jean gathered up his things and held his canvas. He put them all in a bag and slung it over his shoulder. He sighed and went over to the door.

“Wait, that’s it?”

Jean looked over and saw Marco picking up the cake box.

“What do you mean?” Jean asked.

“No phone number, no real goodbye, no other offer to meet again sometime, no nothing?” Marco sounded annoyed. “What about the questions and getting to know each other? If you really wanted to get acquainted with new people, you would have asked Reiner things too.”

Fuck, he couldn’t get to the finish this time. He needed to abort as soon as possible. “Wait it’s not like that…” Jean trailed off as Marco walked out and put the cake in the back seat of his car. “I mean, I do want to get to know you, but not as an acquaintance, I mean—“

“Don’t bother,” Marco muttered and went in the driver seat. “No big deal, just forget it. At least if I get weird mail or looks from the tattoo parlor, I’ll know that’s your doing. Thanks a lot.”

“Marco, you don’t understa—“

He already drove off. Jean kicked the ground just as Reiner got out of the bakery.

“What the hell did you do?” he said.

“I don’t know.” Jean groaned and put his helmet on. “Where does he live? Can you tell me? I can go and talk to him.”

Reiner sighed heavily. “I’m gonna regret this… He lives on 104, Jinae Avenue.”

“Thanks.” He started up his bike and headed off, following the street signs. He hoped that he could try talking to him and explaining himself while at the same time not give away what Marco still didn’t know about his past.

When on Jinae Avenue, he looked around as he slowed down. At house 104 he saw Marco lived along a dock, and the house was right by the water. It was a small ranch, with property around it as well as some overgrown marsh a little bit away from where Jean then parked his Harley. Taking his helmet off, he tried collecting himself.

“Okay, just tell Marco you’re sorry. That’s all you have to do. Then I can explain myself.” He went to the porch and knocked on the door. He fixed his pants a little just as the door opened.

The man that walked outside was shorter than Marco, and also a little scary looking. All of a sudden, Jean completely forgot what to say. This man must be one of Marco’s dads.

“Uh hi,” he stammered. “I’m Jean. And I—“

“I know who you are,” he muttered.

“Right.” Jean looked down. “I just want to apologize.”

“That so? Well, you’ve already done enough.”

“Levi!” Another man came out of the house as well. Why did both of Marco’s dads have to look so fucking intimidating? “Is this him?”

“Yep.” Levi stared Jean down. “Erwin, how do you suggest that we should deal with him? Let him walk away nicely or take him down to the basement so that I can test on him?”

“H-hey, no need to start testing on people.” Jean gulped. “Look. I meant no harm. I really like your son and had no intentions on hurting him. I swear.”

“If you had no intentions, you would have not kept seeing him.” Erwin stepped in. “Stay away from our son.”

“Hey, he’s a grown man,” he then said. “Don’t you think it’s a little… I don’t know, unhealthy to keep him living this routine like this?”

“Don’t you tell us how we should handle this, Jean.” Levi gave him a glare that could kill a man. “You have no right to judge how we go about it, because believe me, we’ve tried anything you could imagine.”

“Come on, Le—“

“That’s _Mr. Ackerman_ to you.”

“M-mister Ackerman,” he stammered. “Look, don’t you want to get on with your lives? Don’t you two wanna actually relax and grow old? What about Ymir? And her girlfriend. Don’t they want to move further into their relationship?”

Levi rubbed his brow and his shoulders slumped down. “There is nothing we can think of doing right now, and we are trying our best. But please, just stay away from Marco. Don’t go back to Braun’s Pastries anymore.”

Jean stared at the two men and stepped back. They stared at him so coldly. Did they just simply not trust him? Well that’s rightfully so, but that was still a question too damn obviously answered. Couldn’t they see that he really wanted to help? Guess not.

So instead of worsening the argument, he nodded and walked to his bike. “Yes, Mr. Ackerman. And Mister…”

“Smith.”

“Mr. Smith,” Jean repeated after Erwin while hopping onto his bike. He started it up. “Don’t worry, I won’t go back into the bakery anymore.”

“Good.” They both said and they stayed on the porch.

“Now, we have a birthday to celebrate.”

“Yeah, another one of Ymir’s?” Jean snarked, still parked by the marsh.

Erwin glanced over. “It’s June 16th. Marco’s twenty-fourth birthday.”

After the door was shut Jean still stayed there. It was _Marco’s_ birthday. A new light had just been shed on this subject. Marco was forced to believe every day for the rest of his life when he woke up that his sister turned twenty-four. Now after missing two other birthdays, it turned out that he turned that very same age today without even realizing.

How many birthdays had he missed altogether while in his mind every day was Ymir’s? How many run-throughs of that fucking song were made in vain because he was singing to the wrong person? How many cakes were made and decorated so passionately with such intricate skills, but made while thinking of the wrong person? Jean did not know the answer to that question, but he knew that Marco had missed more than three, judging by his own.

This was not good for any of them. Marco’s parents, his sister and her girlfriend, his boss and his fiancé, all of his friends. They all had one thing in common. They all chose to stop their lives, put the record on repeat, and follow such a gross routine, all for the “best interest” of a man’s mental state. There had to be other ways to go about this, ways that could be good for everyone, including Marco.

But the trick was to think of one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my tag for this is "#fic: home jm" if you want any more information and/or are waiting for more updates on it. Thank you for reading!


	5. Wicked Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somehow Jean was going to get that nice relationship that they had formed that day. He realized that he was so close when realizing that Marco had such a wonderful singing voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _“What a wicked game to play, to make me feel this way_  
>  _What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you_  
>  _What a wicked thing to say, you never felt that way_  
>  _What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream you”_  
>  \- _Wicked Game,_ James Vincent McMorrow (original lyrics by Chris Isaak)

_Jean gave it a week. He_ tried keeping away from Marco for a whole week. Impossible. He couldn’t stop thinking about him and desperately wanted to see him.

Sasha and Connie were playing Titanfall, and Eren and Armin came over as well. Mikasa went on a date. Jean was trying to work on a commission in his studio, but he couldn’t concentrate. Not with his mind constantly racing and thinking about everything. Soon he got so frustrated that he moved away from his computer to keep himself from flipping over his desk.

“Lost your muse?” Connie called.

“I can’t concentrate!” Jean stormed out of the studio.

Eren kicked his feet up from where he sat while he and Armin shared a plate of Totino’s. “Jean, it’s only been a week.”

“A very long ass week,” he muttered. “I wanna see him.”

“Of course you do,” Armin sighed. “But Jean, you’d better not take his parents’ warning too lightly, okay? If they tell you to stay away from him, you stay away from him.”

“They’re not going to keep me away from him like that,” he mumbled. “Did it ever occur to them that maybe I actually really want to help him out? They need a healthier way to deal with this, and not make tell themselves that it’s February 2012 when obviously it is almost July two years later.”

“Jean.” Sasha moved hair out of her face and kept her eyes on the screen to play the video game. “We all feel the same way you do. Even _they_ feel the same way you do. But there is nothing right now that they can do.”

He groaned and got up. “I can’t take it anymore, I gotta see him. I can’t keep putzing around like this.”

“Jean, don’t do this—“

“Connie, I have to. I am losing my mind.” He ran a hand through his hair. “They just told me to stay away from the bakery. And hey, I’ll stay away from the bakery.” He glanced back at the couch to look at his friends. “Do any of you know where he goes for lunch?”

Sasha paused the game. “Okay Jean, I will only tell you because I really think that you could help them out. I hate seeing Marco living like this as well.” She sat back. “He goes to this bar and grill at South Beach. He stays there and eats for a half hour, and the rest of that hour he takes a walk along the beach before going back to his car. He does that every day, only because he did that every Friday afternoon before his accident.”

Jean nodded, just grateful to know a little more about his day. “Thank you, Sasha. Tomorrow I’m gonna try and start back from square one.”

“Good luck.” The four of them said that in unison, as if they weren’t really sure that this was going to work out.

\--

 _Jean rode on his Harley at_ noon the very next day. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to try and see Marco. He decided to try while he would walk along the beach, knowing that would give him a better chance since he would have already been done eating and satisfied about finishing a meal before dealing with a trash boat like himself.

He wasn’t sure at first where he should look first. That was until he stepped out onto the sand once at the beach. Some seagulls flew away from him, and he walked along the beach as the waves crashed a little bit away from him.

It was actually very nice out today. The sun was shining, and a gentle breeze wisped through the area, which cooled Jean down since he made the very bold decision of wearing jeans to the beach. It was the perfect weather to see what shade of red he would turn into today. He was like a fucking chameleon only attracted to the hues that would make him blend into a horror scene.

After a couple minutes of searching, he found him leaving a building. That was probably the bar and grill. Hey… that bar and grill was the same exact one where he and Connie went to the first day after they had settled here. That was where he met Hitch. Maybe he should check his email to see if she said anything else about a meet-up—

No wait. He had to focus. He was here to try and reconnect with the man that he coincidentally now had a high school level crush on. Oh yeah, speaking of Mister Dream Boat with the farmer’s tan, he was heading this way, holding his sneakers in his hand. Jean had to play it cool. He ran a hand through his hair and then made an attempt to approach him.

“So, is the food good there?” he blurted out.

_“Is the food good there?” Really, Jean? You’re a fucking idiot._

Marco glanced at him and nodded as he smiled. “Yeah, it is. I highly recommend it. Their meat is always good.”

“Okay, but I can’t exactly drink meat, now can I?”

He laughed. Wow, that was actually funny? Jean didn’t even try. “Then I guess you’ll have to ask the tender about a special purification so that it actually can be possible.”

“Wow, would you really drink the meat though?”

“Hell no,” Marco chuckled. “But you were the one that asked.”

“That’s because I’m garbage and want alcohol,” Jean said simply. “I’m just thirsty.”

“Thirsty, huh?” he rolled his shoulders up in a shrug and then held out his hand. “Well, hello thirsty. My name is Marco.”

“Did you just pull a dad joke?!” Jean mentally slapped his forehead before shaking his hand. “I’ll have you know that my name is Jean, and I am a thirsty, sentient trash bag and painter extraordinaire.”

“Such a title for a sentient trash bag,” he smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Jean.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

Now this was perfect. The two of them were able to talk within this half hour that they had before Marco had to drive back to work. However it wasn’t about anything new. They replayed their life stories once again. But Jean took in every single word yet again. Any sentence shared with Marco was a sentence worth cherishing.

When Marco had to go, he was reluctant yet again. He spent all this time drinking in and absorbing all this knowledge he had already obtained, just so that he could have it jogged into his memory. It was worth it all within just thirty minutes of speaking to one another like two strangers befriending over a terrible joke. According to Marco, that was all it was, but for Jean it was _so_ much more.

Marco walked to his car and then put his shoes back on. “Okay, I have to go now.”

“So soon?” Jean groaned. “When can I see you again?” _Tomorrow. Tomorrow I am going to meet you all over again._

“Well… this weekend I gotta meet my friend’s new boyfriend. But on Monday after work I’m gonna come back to that bar and grill.” Marco opened the driver side door. “So Monday at five? We can drink all the meat you want.”

Jean laughed as he nodded. “Yeah. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Nice meeting you, Jean,” he grinned and then got into his car.

As he watched Marco drive off, he slowly waved. “Yeah…” he said to himself. “It was nice meeting you too.” He looked down and started going back to his car. “I’ll meet you again tomorrow.”

\--

 _And the next day he did._ And hevisited him the next day as well. It was always at the same place. The bar and grill. Right at twelve-thirty Marco would walk out and start treading along the beach without a care in the world. Jean would assume the position and walk alongside him while they once again reintroduced themselves and got acquainted like they were total strangers.

Little did Marco know was that Jean now knew all he could about him. He knew about all his piercings, his parents, the childhood memories that were worth sharing. Like the time when he was in fifth grade when he played the tuba for a year before giving up because he had to move, where at his concert he blew into it so hard that he shat himself.

He couldn’t tell him that he already knew though. This would just pass as him being extremely creepy, and it would drive him away for the day. How could he possibly break the news to him? There was a simple answer to that. Even after having an initial plan to make his life better by informing him of his condition, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. How would Marco react to that news being told and retold to him every single day of his life like he was being told it for the very first time? For now he could only imagine that it would not be well at all.

After another week of seeing him like this he wanted to try something different to get his attention. He walked over to the bar and grill and looked around to see where Marco would be. It was twelve-fifteen, so he figured that he could probably be eating. Wrong. He was actually leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette.

_What do I do then? Just breathe, and go with instinct._

What even was instinct when it came to this? He was smoking a cigarette. Oh duh, Jean smoked. There was his instinct right there… sort of. He walked over and took one of the pack in his pocket. He lit it and stood next to Marco like it was no big deal.

Marco inhaled from the cigarette slowly, breathing out and watching Jean doing the same. He tilted his head. “Oh. Hello.”

“Hey.” _Just play it cool Jean. Breathe out the shit, what are you doing?_ He exhaled, and he nodded. “Uh, I hope you don’t mind that I’m standing here.”

“Eh, we’re both doing the same thing.” Marco grinned and leaned back again, taking a long drag from this cigarette.

“You’re right,” he nodded and looked down. “The name’s Jean.”

“I’m Marco.”

“Nice to meet you.” Jean glanced up as they both enjoyed their smokes.

More or less. Mainly he was just trying to remember exactly how to fucking smoke because he spent his time looking at Marco. He was mesmerized by the way he did it. Well duh, he’d smoked since he was seventeen, but watching the way he did it was almost relaxing and… kind of sexy. He breathed it in and held it, his head tilting back when he exhaled. A fog wreathed around him, and he grinned.

The sight made Jean realize that he had been holding his breath, and he started coughing, trying not to drop it. Marco let out a breathy laugh and inhaled it again after a minute.

“Are you a new smoker?” Marco said.

Jean shook his head. “I’ve been smoking for six years. So… is that new or not?”

“It depends,” he smiled. “I’ve been smoking for three years—” wrong, he had been smoking for six years as well “—so I guess that you’re not. _I’m_ the new one.”

“Showed you,” he chuckled.

The two of them looked at each other. Marco was then going to start asking questions to make their silence less awkward in three, two, one…

“So, are you new around here?”

Jean shrugged. “Kinda. My family used to come here all the time for the summer. And then I bought the summer house from my parents. So… I now don’t have much money left to pay off my student loans.”

“Well, that was some risky move,” Marco grinned. “So you do live around here?”

“Yeah. I lived here for a month, just about,” he nodded.

“I see.” He brought the cigarette to his lips again. “I’ve been thinking a little bit about those cigarette ads on TV, and about all the risks that they say. I miss the old ads. You know, the ones that they made posters of in middle school and weren’t so obscene about it. They were funny.”

“Yeah, I agree.” Jean tried to think. “Didn’t they have posters that said something like, ‘Don’t touch butts’ or something like that?”

“Mhm,” he smirked and breathed out more smoke. “‘You would never put a butt in your mouth.’ Oh yeah? Well I’ve eaten ass, so I think I’m good.”

Jean lost it. He gagged and choked since he had been inhaling in the middle of his last sentence. Even after Marco rubbed his back, he still busted out laughing and couldn’t contain it. “W- _well then!”_

He smiled cheekily. “Too much information?”

“A-a little,” he stammered.

Marco laughed and put it out. “Hey, wanna take a walk? I still have a half hour before I have to leave for work.”

“Sure,” Jean said after putting his cigarette out. “Lead the way.”

They both walked along the beach and continued to talk, not just about cigarette butt ads though. They continued with the same conversation they had every time they met. And everything that Jean already knew was being said again, and he pretended to be genuinely surprised but not once faking the fact the he really was intrigued. Maybe somewhere in the back of his mind he could tell that he really did know him. Just maybe.

Marco sighed after a few minutes of walking. “Okay, I have to go now.”

“Aw, already?” he groaned. “But I was having so much fun.”

“I was too.” He smiled and walked over to the parking lot. “It was really nice talking to you Jean. We should really do this again sometime.”

Jean nodded while watching him go into his car and eventually drive off. “Don’t’ worry… we’ll definitely be doing this again.”

\--

 _It was raining on the first_ day of July. Jean drove Connie’s car that day for that specific reason. He planned on meeting Marco like he did the other day, by the bar and grill so that the two of them could have a couple of smokes and repetitively get to know each other once again. It had been a month and then some, but every time felt like the very first time for Jean, which is what he really liked.

He got there and put a hood over his head as he went outside. Taking his cigarette out from his pack he walked over to the bar and grill. However, as he was about to light it he stopped dead in his tracks when seeing that it was not Marco standing right outside it. It was Levi and Erwin.

“Oh… you’re not Marco.”

“We’re not,” Erwin muttered. “I see that you are a _very_ good listener.”

Levi had his arms crossed as he looked at him. “Marco stayed at the bakery for lunch because it was raining. Reiner found out through Sasha that you were meeting him during his break, and then he told us. But the reason why he told us is for something that we actually want you to see.”

Jean tilted his head. “Hah?”

“Do you have a car?” Erwin asked as they led him back to the parking lot.

He was still very confused. “I’m driving my friend’s jeep today. But, what is all of this about?”

“You’ll find out.” Levi muttered. “Now shut up and meet us at the bakery.”

They were already off by the time Jean started driving. He was not entirely sure why Erwin and Levi of all people were telling him to go to Braun’s Pastries. Oh well. At least he’d get to see Marco again.

Of course the couple got there first. Jean pulled over and stepped out while Erwin and Levi waited at the door. He put his hands in his pockets.

“Okay, what’s going on?”

“It’s whatever you’re doing by meeting Marco every day,” Erwin said. “He does this at the bakery, and he does it at home too.”

This was getting him absolutely nowhere. “Does what?”

“Follow us.” Levi opened the door, and Jean was the last to walk in.

The first thing Jean heard was whistling. He looked over at the counter and saw Marco working on what he could only assume was another birthday cake for Ymir again. He had a smile on his face and laughed to himself. And when he glanced at Jean his smile grew wider. Jean’s heart swelled. Were they trying to say that he remembered him now? Maybe… Just maybe—

“Hello, Sir,” he chuckled. “Welcome to Braun’s Pastries. Is there anything you’d like today?”

…Maybe not.

“No it’s okay,” he assured him. “’M just looking.”

Marco nodded and looked at his parents. “Hi Dad. Hey Pa.”

“Hello, Marco,” Levi said.

Jean glanced back at Marco’s dads. “Why’d you bring me here?”

Erwin cut him off just as he was about to say more. “Just give it a minute. He’s seen you now today.”

Just when he was going to ask what the fuck they were talking about, he heard noise from the counter again. It was… singing?

“ _Alabama, Arkansas,”_ Marco sang as he decorated his cake. “ _I do love my Ma and Pa. Not the way that I do love you._ ”

He tilted his head. “That’s it? He’s singing.”

“No,” Levi said. “He’s not just singing. That is the song he sings whenever he’s really happy. Like… meeting someone he has interest in, for example.”

Jean glanced over at Marco as he sang another verse. “So… he remembers me?”

“Nope.” Erwin shook his head. “But something about you and that song must have made a connection. Every day that he meets you is a day that he starts singing the song like there’s no tomorrow.”

 _“Man, oh man, you’re my best friend_. _I scream it to the nothingness. There ain’t nothing that I need.”_

Jean really didn’t understand the lyrics to this song. He’d never really heard it before. “What the hell is he even singing?”

“ _Home_.” Oh, how ironic. Levi then continued. “It’s by Edward Sharpe  & the Magnetic Zeros. His happy song.”

“I see,” he nodded just as he heard Marco singing the chorus. “He has interesting taste in music. Hey, can we… talk outside?”

The two of them looked hesitant but just nodded.

_“Home. Let me come home. Home is whenever I’m with you.”_

Those lyrics hit Jean harder than a wall of bricks. Why did his song have to be about that? Here Marco was longing for a place to call home, and his happy song is about having another person to be with to know that with one look, they are home. He should not be this emotionally compromised by a song that he had never even heard of until just now.

He shook his head as he followed Erwin and Levi outside. He really did have something to say, and he found it more urgent to say so now that he had just heard Marco singing that song. He faced the two of them.

“Look… it’s obvious that his memory is not going to come back any time soon. But there is a way that we could help him, right? There has to be a way to let him know about everything he had been through and still let him live a normal life.”

Levi sighed and tapped his foot. “So that is what you wanted to talk about. Jean, you don’t know what it’s like.”

“I’m sorry to say otherwise, but I believe that I do.” Jean was being pretty bold, he had to admit. But he desperately needed to get his point across. “I really like your son, okay? Why else do I keep seeing him, just to piss him off? I already know so much about him from seeing him every day. And hearing him sing that song lets me know that deep down he knows that there is a connection between us. He just physically can’t find out the reason why without a little push.”

“Jean, we told you already,” Erwin said. “We don’t know how to deal with this just yet.”

“Then let me help,” he insisted. “What are you guys going to do when he starts seeing gray hair after just one day? What are you going to do when one of you, god forbid, has their life end suddenly? If he sees only one father around the house and no one will tell him what really happened, eventually he is going to break when realizing that one of you is not there for your daughter’s birthday. There are a lot of things that you really need to consider here.”

Jean did not realize most of what he was saying. He had been thinking about all of this long and hard for the past month, and all of his sentences were honestly just spilling out of him like word vomit. But it seemed to have somehow intrigued the two of them, even if it was probably just a little bit.

Erwin was the first to speak. “You do have a point there, Jean… I promise you that we really are trying. We are coming up with a healthy way to go about this.”

Levi dipped his head in a nod. “And since we already can tell that Marco is probably developing some kind of connection with you, then I guess we have no choice but to let you stay in his life.”

He breathed out a sigh of relief. “Really? Thank you. I promise that I will do everything I can to help you out.”

“And that is the only reason why we are letting you stay,” he said. “One slip up where you betray any of our trusts, and you are out. Got it?”

“You got it.” Jean quickly nodded. “I won’t let you down.”

A car pulled up to the bakery just then. A brunette stepped out as well as a petite blonde. They must have seen Erwin and Levi, because they walked over to him and waved.

“Hey,” the brunette mumbled. “How’s Marco doing?”

“Great,” Erwin insisted.

She nodded and then looked over at Jean. “Who’s that? Is this the guy that sees Marco all the time?”

“Yep. That’d be me.” Jean held out his hand. “I’m Jean.”

She looked him up and down. “Ymir.”

Oh. This was Marco’s sister. She was the one that he always made the birthday cakes for. His thoughts were cut off when she then gave him a bone-crunching, unexpected handshake. Jean’s smile is shaky as he tries responding to it, but she has a _very_ strong grip.

He looked over at the blonde. “I guess that means you are her girlfriend?”

She nodded and shook hands with him. “I’m Krista.”

He nodded. “Nice to meet you both.”

Ymir eyed him. “Pa, did you give him the okay to see Marco again?”

“You mean with our permission?” Erwin corrected. “Yeah.”

She did look a little relieved for a minute. “Good. He’s evidently happier whenever he sees him.”

Levi nodded. “I _guess_ he is.”

Krista held Ymir’s hand. “…Should we tell them now?”

She nodded as her fingers twined with hers. Ymir looked at her fathers. “Pa, Dad… Krista and I are life partners now.”

Erwin smiled while Levi’s eyebrows arched up in surprise. They exchanged their hugs while Jean just stood there and watched from the sidelines to let the proud parents congratulate their daughter on being committed to such an amazing woman. He was happy for them, even though he had just met them, but he already seemed like a part of the family because thanks to Marco, he was very well informed about their lives and stories. He liked the closeness even if he was just enjoying it from afar.

Tomorrow Jean planned to see Marco again for real. Actually see him like he had done when he went to the bakery, and maybe then some. He wanted to see if he could affirm their relationship. He already knew that it was going to take quite a while to do so with the mental state that he was in, but he was willing to make any sacrifices to help him.

\--

 _Jean walked along the beach and_ glanced around. It was oddly vacant, not many people around for miles around. He took that initiative to lie himself down on the sand, staring up at the blindingly bright sky with sunglasses on protecting his eyes. He stayed there alone, taking in the soothing sounds of the tide. His eyes slowly closed, and he took a deep breath in.

A shadow casted and the light shining from in front of his eyelids dimmed, so he opened his eyes and squinted. Above him was someone he honestly did not expect to meet like this. It was Marco.

His smiling face gleamed down at him with a light so much brighter than that of the sun. Jean’s cheeks darkened as he stared up, mesmerized.

“What are you doing here?” he gasped.

“Why can’t I stay?” Marco’s frown could make the entire world stop just to recollect itself and try to get the smile back on his face. His hand ran along his bicep. “You’ve done a lot for me by listening to the same stories over and over again.”

“It’s nothing really,” he stammered and blushed.

Shaking his head, Marco laughed and leaned in closer to press his forehead to his. “Jean… it’s so much more, you know. You keep seeing me and coming back, and I have no choice but to believe that we’re meeting for the first time.”

Jean had to be dreaming. There was no possible way.

Gentle fingers threaded through is messy hair, trailing down to run along the piercings on his eyebrow. They continued traveling down the side of his face until his thumb slowly rubbed one of his snake bites.

“Ever kissed someone with a tongue ring, Jean?” he suddenly said.

Jean gulped and shook his head. “N-no… I’ve never kissed anyone with a Prince Albert.”

“Let’s change that,” he grinned and leaned down.

Jean’s eyes fluttered closed once their lips met in a soft, slow kiss. He arched up into the way his seemingly skilled hands slide down from his shoulders to his hips—well, he had to be skilled. One day he said that he had eaten ass. You couldn’t be any more skilled than that.

He didn’t get to even wonder what his tongue would feel like along his. How the silver ball would trace hotly into his mouth. How it would evoke such a noise from him that couldn’t be described or even imagined. He didn’t get to imagine him feeling up his shirt and rubbing his skin.

Because he had woken up much too soon.

As his eyes opened drearily he slammed his hand down on his alarm clock to make it shut the fuck up already. He rubbed his face and sat up, looking across the room at his mirror and audibly groaning. He looked like fucking trash at its finest.

Jean stepped into the shower that morning, and by the time he got out, had a cigarette, and drank a frappe, it was still only eleven o’clock. He didn’t have to go and see Marco so soon, did he? He should just stick to seeing him whenever he would get back from lunch. That still gave him another two hours.

He had to work on commissions anyways.

Too drowsy to really have noticed, Sasha had been sleeping on the couch because she spent the night. While in his studio vigorously using his tablet to edit a photo, he heard footsteps going down the hall towards the kitchen.

“Connie?”

“Wrong.” Sasha had a bowl of cereal in her hand as she stood over by the studio. “You working?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t take his eyes off the screen. “I have to get this done by today. The client said that he would lower the price if I didn’t.”

“It’s almost done, right?” she asked.

“Oh yeah, it is.” Jean was doing the finishing touches currently. “It’s just very hard to find clients these days the minute they find out that the artist who wants to do the commission is pansexual.”

“What a world,” Sasha groaned and looked over at what he had been working on. “It looks pretty good.”

“Thanks,” he shrugged. “It’s not my best work, but I think they’ll be satisfied that I at least finished it.”

She nodded and pulled up a chair. “Are you going to see Marco today?”

“Of course.” The thought of seeing him again put a smile on Jean’s face. Then it faltered a little. “I had a dream, though… I dreamt we were on the beach, and that he kissed me.”

She sighed while eating her breakfast. “I guess that this is more serious than we thought,” she said. “You really do have feelings for him. That, or you are just so sexually frustrated that your imagination can’t even function properly.”

Jean laughed. “Well. I think it’s both.”

“Makes sense.” Sasha sat back. “Hey, don’t be nervous. You’re doing just fine. The only difference is that his parents are currently okay with you doing this.”

“True,” he sighed. “I just want to make sure that I really make a good impression for him every time I see him again. Because every time he really is meeting me for the first time.”

“I know.” She nodded. “Well, you’re going to do great, I promise. Just… don’t fuck it up.”

“Well, thanks a lot, Sasha,” he snarked and went back to his commission.

He was pretty sure that he wasn’t going to fuck it up. He hadn’t fucked up since the last time… that he visited him at the bakery. Wait. What if this did fuck up? There was something about that bakery that made it almost impossible to have a day end smoothly, or maybe that was just him and his bad luck.

Only time will tell. He had an hour and a half still.

\--

 _Jean pulled his bike over by_ Marco’s car. Now he could tell why it probably looked so refurbished. Because it was. Judging by the story of his accident there had been some serious damage. They probably did everything they could to fix it up. But what did he know about cars? Absolutely nothing.

He stared up at the Braun’s Pastries sign and let out a deep sigh. _Here goes nothing._ He stepped into the bakery and let the door close behind him. Marco was already working on a customer’s order. Danishes.

Jean walked over and cleared his throat. “Excuse me.”

Marco glanced over from his work and smiled politely. “Hello, Sir. How can I help you?”

“Well, I am new to the neighborhood,” he started off. “And I was wondering if you knew any good places to eat. I heard there is a Thai restaurant that messes up terribly on orders with people that have food allergies.” Total lie. He just said that all because of what he almost did the one time he brought Marco food that had peanut curry in it.

“Oh really?” Marco tilted his head. “Well, there are quite a few nice restaurants around here. But if that does not suit your fancy, you could always try a nice bar and grill at South Beach. I go there every week on my lunch break, and there’s really good food there.”

“Really?” Jean smiled. “Thanks a bunch.”

“No problem,” Marco said. “Hey, if you’re new to the neighborhood, I’m gonna have to introduce myself, right? My name is Marco. I’m a pastry chef… and my main purpose is being the cake decorator. My specialty.”

“Cool,” he grinned. “I’m Jean, and I like to paint for a living even though I really should get myself a part time job.”

“And why don’t you?”

“I have a roommate that helps pay off the utilities with me,” Jean insisted. “But I still need to pay off my student loans. They’re a bitch.”

“Oh, don’t I know it,” Marco huffed. “They seriously suck.”

Reiner finished tending to a customer that had fancied himself reading the newspaper. And it had the current date on it. Jean lost the color in his face. Marco couldn’t see that. That would probably be too much of a shock for him to see it right away. He was kind of hoping that Marco wouldn’t notice it.

“You’re awfully quiet, Jean,” Marco said after a minute.

He was a little startled and looked over at him. “Oh yeah. Sorry. Spaced out.”

“That’s okay,” he insisted and smiled. “I was just gonna say that… Hey. Wait.”

“What?” Jean turned around and then quickly saw what got the other’s attention. There was a police car parked right next to Marco’s car. The woman stared at it and was vigorously writing a ticket.

_Oh shit._

“Hey, why is she…?” Marco trailed off and quickly went out from behind the counter.

Reiner froze when watching him leave. “Marco, I wouldn’t go out there.”

“Marco, wait.” Jean rushed outside to follow him.

Confused, Marco just quickly went to his car. “Officer, what are you doing?”

She looked up when hearing him. “Do you see the date on your inspection sticker?”

“What about it?” He looked towards his windshield. “I know it says to bring it in July 2013. I actually don’t have to bring it in until 2014 because this is a new car. See?” He showed the officer the one year sticker above the inspection date.

“You do realize that it is July 2014 right now, right?” she mumbled and looked at him.

Marco stiffened. “No, don’t be silly.”

Jean walked over. “Hey Marco, what’s wrong?”

He glanced at him. “This officer is telling me that it’s July 2014. It’s February… 2012. How can you be that off, right?”

“Sir, the date is July 2nd 2014.”

“No it’s not.” Marco looked back at the officer. “With all due respect, I think I know what date of the year it is. It’s February 17th 2012.” He noticed the customer that was in before walk out, and he held the newspaper in his hand. His eyes brightened and he rushed over. “Excuse me, can I borrow this real fast?”

The man looked up and shrugged as he handed him the paper.

“Marco!” Reiner rushed out. “Marco wait, I’ll handle it.”

Too late.

He already went back to the officer and pointed towards the date. “See? February 17th 2012.” He looked down at the date, but once he did his blood ran cold. It did not say February 17th at all. The officer was right. The date on the paper was July 2nd 2014\. It was right there on the front page.

Marco squinted to try and get a closer look. “Wait… this isn’t right.”

Reiner walked over to the officer. “Listen Officer, he’s not… right in the head,” he said in a hushed tone. “We will take care of it, trust me.”

She handed Reiner the ticket anyways, and she went back into her cruiser. Meanwhile Marco still stared at the paper with wide eyes, the color lost in his face as his hands were shaking.

“No…” He looked through the paper. It kept talking about 2014 and current events happening in his area during last month. His breath came out fast in a panic. He quickly glanced up and dropped the paper, which Jean slowly gave back to the customer.

Marco ran over to the pharmacy next door. They had a lot of newspapers in there. Someone must have been playing a joke on him with the one he had earlier. Those ones must have the right date on them. They had to be on there.

“Please, please, _please…”_ He was begging now. They had to be right. When finding the newspapers he quickly leafed through them. He was checking the dates. But they all were the same. Every single one of them. But it was the wrong date. His mind kept telling him that the date was February 17th 2012.

But the papers all said that it was July 2nd 2014\. Every single one of these damned papers said the same date over and over, and it was making his stomach flip and cold sweat bead along the back of his neck.

What was going on here?

Marco felt like he was going to be sick. He genuinely felt like he was going to vomit right in the middle of the pharmacy. He barely heard Reiner and Jean quickly walk in. His boss and some stranger that he just met in the bakery he worked in. He didn’t realize he was shaking until he tried standing up. He quickly looked over at them.

“Reiner…” he said shakily. “This is all a big joke that everyone here is playing on me. Right? This is all just a big prank. It’s February 2012… It is, right? It has to be!”

Reiner honestly did not know what to tell his poor friend. He didn’t know whether to tell the truth or to half ass it and lie for his best interest, like they all had been doing all along, including Jean.

“Marco…” He cleared his throat. “Marco, listen. This is… not a joke.”

He stiffened. “No it is. It’s all a joke. What’s going on? Someone tell me what’s…” He trailed off because he just couldn’t find any more words to say.

Jean realized that this was why they probably prevented him from knowing about his accident. This reaction that he was getting was nothing less than distressing. The shocked and horrified look on Marco’s face was too much to bear.

Marco quickly shook his head and rushed out of the pharmacy. He ran back over to his car, not realizing he had tears streaming down his face. Jean and Reiner watched him get into his car and quickly speed off. He was probably in a real hurry to get home. No one could blame that he was terrified.

“Go after him,” Reiner then told Jean. Make sure that he is okay.”

Jean quickly nodded and went over to his bike. He rushed to get his helmet on and started it up. He knew where his house was from the last time he visited, and he knew that he probably was not going to get there before Marco would. But it was probably better that his parents actually could hear what caused this panic if they wouldn’t be informed by the time their son was done explaining what happened on this terrifying day that he jumped two years into the future.

He hoped that Marco was going to be okay. He was positive that they probably have dealt with this in the past, but finding out like that was not an ease into it nor a gentle nudge. It was a stinging slap in the face followed by a kick in the balls with the perpetrator screaming in his face that he was living in a fucking fantasy. That was an astronomical dose of reality for a man that had absolutely no idea what was coming to him until it hit him.

And as he pulled up to the house and stopped the bike, he took off his helmet. The air was calm for several moments, but then the only sound that could be heard from yards around them was the sound of a terrified, devastated scream coming from the end of the dock.

He knew.


	6. Sleepsong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco finds out what happened to him, and now the world seems a little bit scarier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the comments and kudos that I have received since my last update! It really means a lot. I am changing my update day to Saturdays because it is easier for me to remember and catch on instead of having to remind myself every Tuesday come the college semester that I'd have to update.  
> My [tumblr.](http://flutefluffs-trash-bag.tumblr.com)
> 
>  _“All you want is someone onto whom you can cling_  
>  _Your mother warned strangers and the dangers they may bring_  
>  _Your dreams and memories are blurring into one_  
>  _The scenes which hold the waking world slowly come undone”_  
>  \- _Sleepsong,_ Bastille

_Marco screamed at the thick, humid_ air while gentle waves crashed at the docks. He screamed because when he rushed in the house and explained what happened with the newspaper, they just gave each other a knowing look that he did not understand. He screamed because on the TV they were watching a movie that he never even heard of. He screamed because they showed him in the pantry hundreds of newspapers with the date that he was sure was the right day to begin with. He screamed because they proved that it was indeed the wrong date.

He screamed because they then told him that on the real February 17th 2012, he got into a car accident where he had a severe head injury and currently had Anterograde Amnesia, which was why he still thought it was February 17th 2012 every single morning when he woke up.

And as he screamed tears ran down his face as he lost his footing and fell to his knees. This was all too real. He wasn’t even entirely sure what was true or not anymore. He was horribly confused.

“Marco.”

Startled, he quickly looked back at where the voice came from. Erwin and Levi stood there. Ymir was next to them and held a folder in her hand. That guy Jean was there too.

“Marco,” Ymir said again before handing him the folder. “These are from your accident.”

He stiffened and stared warily at it. He wasn’t sure if he should open it. He did not know if he wanted to see what horrors could possibly be hidden inside it.

“Marco, it’s okay,” Levi said. “You’ve seen it before.”

_You’ve seen it before._

Those words echoed in his mind but he didn’t even recall that this folder even existed. As scared as he was, curiosity got the better of him. Wiping his eyes, he then shakily opened it. His vision grew blurry again when seeing what was right on top.

It was a cut-out from a newspaper dated February 18th 2012\. The headlines were in bold: “ **BRUTAL TEXTING AND DRIVING ACCIDENT CAUSES TRAFFIC BUILD-UP**.” The picture below it was his car. The passenger side was completely caved in, glass missing from the windshield, where another large dent was that took out one of the headlights. Smoke was spewing out from the engine.

_“Totaled vehicle of local pastry chef Marco Bodt, 21, one hour after the acc—”_

Marco’s eyes widened. “No. That…” He couldn’t even find the words to speak. No matter how hard he tried, they all just came out as several choked sobs. He shook his head. This couldn’t be real. He stared at the page.

“There’s more, Marco,” Erwin said.

He stiffened. He only saw this one piece of paper and already he felt like he was going to be sick. Out of reluctance, he flipped the paper over to look at the next one. They were X-rays of his head, which showed that there was a crack on the right side of his skull.

“Because of your piercings, they weren’t able to perform an MRI,” Levi intervened. “They tested your skills and memory for a week after you had woken up from your coma.”

“…Coma?” He stared at the X-rays and sniffled as both parents just nodded. He slid the page off to the side next to the news article. The next pictures made him choke back another scream as he dropped the folder.

The picture was dated in March of 2012. It was him lying very still on a hospital bed. There were stitches on his face and his neck, but that was not what truly scared him. It was the fact that the right side of his head was shaved, and a terrible gash with stitches all along it stayed in its place. The area looked like it was indented in his head.

He couldn’t hold back the sob that came out from the back of his tightened throat. He half-consciously moved his hand to the right side of his head, his eyes widening. He could feel the scar in the picture. He could feel a slight indent.

“Dad… Pa.” His voice was raspy as he glanced back at his parents.

Ymir watched him and sighed softly. Erwin stepped closer to him, picking the folder up off the ground and closing him.

“Marco, you were in a coma for three weeks. You didn’t get to come home until July that year.”

Marco had lost the color in his face. Jean had been watching him see these pictures and having to face the truth. He did not like seeing him this upset, but he knew that he was going to end up finding out about all of this eventually. The harsh reality was that tomorrow, he was not going to remember any of this either.

He watched Marco then lower his head and wipe his eyes yet again. Now he saw what happened when he was not prepared for finding out about his accident, and it was very hard to watch.

“I…” Marco tried thinking. “Can I speak to a doctor?”

“Of course,” Levi answered. “Your doctor is Hanji Zoe. They work at the Wien Center for Memory Disorders at Mount Sinai. This is not the first time they would have to come here, and they are happy to help out on days like these.”

Marco slowly nodded. “Okay. Are we going down there then?”

“We don’t have to. They come to us.”

He slowly got back up on his feet with Ymir’s help, and they all went inside. “What do you mean, ‘days like these?’”

“It’s not the first time that you have heard this,” Erwin explained. “There have been quite a few slipups here and there.”

He looked down as they walked inside. He sat down on the couch, and Ymir turned on the TV.

“I guess… a lot must have changed since my accident, right?”

Jean sat down in a chair across the room as Levi nodded.

“Your sister and Krista are life partners. So are Reiner and Bertholdt.”

This was all so surreal. This was happening way too fast for Marco to even begin catching on. He just nodded slowly. “That’s very exciting. I’m sorry that I’m not more enthusiastic.”

“It’s okay,” Ymir insisted.

Erwin came back after he was on the phone with Hanji. “They’re on their way now. Just sit tight. All Hanji is going to do is talk to you about your condition and let you know how to go about this for today.”

Marco nodded a bit. He then realized that there really was another presence in the room. He found himself looking over at Jean. “Hey, why did you follow me here?”

“Marco…” Levi sat next to him. “He’s technically your boyfriend.”

“What?” He froze as his face grew a little hot. Jean was wearing the same amount of blush on his own cheeks. “But… I don’t know him.”

“I know.” Jean was the one that spoke first. “Every day it’s like we’re meeting each other for the first time.” And he honestly had no problems with that.

The only response that Marco gave him then was a small nod. It was better than absolutely no acknowledgement at all. Hopefully he was starting to recover more from the shock.

“…Did we kiss?” he then asked.

Jean was blushing still, and he shook his head. “No. No we didn’t—haven’t. We haven’t… kissed.”

Erwin and Levi looked at each other and just shrugged their shoulders. There was a bit of relief showing in their facial expressions, but other than that, they were kind of indifferent. More amused by Jean’s awkwardness than anything else.

Marco’s next question, however, their neutrality quickly was thrown off course. “Did we have sex?”

Jean glanced first over at his parents, who gave him hard stares. He sputtered on his words. “W-well, if we haven’t kissed, then we haven’t done that either right? I mean we want—n-no, we didn’t _want_ to, but like—y-you know what, just forget I said anything. How’s that?”

“You shouldn’t have said anything at all,” Levi muttered.

“Right right.” He cleared his throat and looked down at his feet.

There was then a knock at the door that made the others look up from their spots. Erwin got up to answer it, seeing that it was Marco’s doctor, Hanji. The main reason why they weren’t so hesitant to respond to the house calls is because they had become so close to Marco’s family that it was basically a friendship. Plus, they didn’t live that far away from here.

“Alright, where’s Marco?” they said and walked into the living room. When they saw him sitting on the couch, they smiled. “Hello. I’m Dr. Hanji Zoe.” They held out their hand.

Marco stared at the hand for a few moments before slowly shaking it. He figured that he had seen them quite a few times in the past, but right now Hanji was a stranger to him, and he wasn’t sure how he should talk to them.

“Do you have the pictures of your X-Rays?” Hanji then asked.

He nodded and handed them the folder. He let them leaf through it until they found the pictures. They looked them over and nodded, seating themselves on the couch. Ymir watched them as well, even if she had seen the same thing happen over and over again.

“See here?” they then said as they pointed towards the crack in the skull presented in the first picture. The response was a nod. “That’s where the temporal lobe is. That’s what stores short term memory. The main damage of the accident was caused by the impact of your head on the steering wheel as well as the large shards from the glass of your windows and windshield.”

Marco swallowed as he nodded, feeling his head once again. He couldn’t believe that this had happened to him, but he was more than sure that this probably was not the first time he was hearing this. “Is it… permanent?”

Hanji nodded. “It is, I’m afraid. The scar tissue is what's hindering any form of recovery. But you are very lucky to have kept at least twenty-four hours’ worth of your short-term memory at a time. There are cases that are so complex, that there is no telling how long their memory span is. It’s fascinating really.”

“I’m guessing that you have a love for brains in general?” Jean joked.

They glanced over and just laughed before continuing on with what they were saying. “There is one patient from our clinic named Thomas Wagner. We like to call him Ten Second Tom, because his short term memory only lasts for ten seconds.”

Marco stiffened. “What happened to him?”

“Hunting accident is all I can tell you,” they admitted. “No worries, though. He is safe in our care at the clinic. We have patients with different cases of memory loss stay there and get treated and recover.”

He nodded and looked over at his fathers. “Have we been to the clinic before?”

Erwin nodded. “That’s where you stayed after your coma. And we have visited there a few times on days like these.”

That must have meant that there were other days when Marco found out in this way. He started feeling a little bad, and he lowered his head. He guessed as much as they were holding themselves back on their lives for his sake, and that was not what he wanted at all. He wanted them to go about their lives like they should. But to say that to them after all this time that they put all this effort into keeping it a secret or keeping him happy… He didn’t think that it was a good idea to question them further or to criticize the way that they had been taking care of him. Surely they were thinking of new ways to approach this, right?

Meanwhile Jean was not having any of it. He didn’t want to see that hurt expression on Marco’s face as much as the next person, but he knew that if they didn’t do something to really help him soon, it would really take its toll on him and hurt him one day. And now that Marco’s doctor was here, he could ask them any methods that _he_ could do to help him.

As they were getting up from the couch, he walked over. “Hey… Dr. Hanji?”

“That’s me,” they said with a smile and adjusted their glasses.

“Good,” he chuckled. “I uh… I actually have a question that I would like to ask you. It’s about what I can do to help.”

They looked at him and nodded as they both stepped into the kitchen. Hanji faced him, but meanwhile Jean was looking around in the kitchen. _Damn_ they had a really nice kitchen, and he couldn’t help up obsess over how great the interior decorating seemed to be. Wait, he had to focus. He looked at Hanji when they tried to get his attention.

“Okay…” He tried to think of how to start. “Do you have any suggestions on how he could find out about his condition every day in a healthier way? You know, with giving him time to think it over and accept it without it just being forced onto him.”

They thought for a minute. “I suggest using the documents in that folder to help him out. As for a healthier way, he could keep a journal that he could write down the events that happen every day. And there could be an approved outside source that can explain to him his accident.”

Jean nodded. “That seems like a better option than getting a ticket for an expired inspection sticker.”

“Very good point there,” they said. “You can’t talk to his parents about it. But that’s the best I can suggest. I understand that you started to form a relationship with him?”

Another nod. “Yeah. But this is for him and his family. He deserves to know in an easier and better way. I don’t like that they all have been revolving their lives around just one day of the year.”

“Well talk to them about it. I’m sure they’ll help you out.”

“Thank you,” Jean smiled. “I’d better go and tell them then.”

As he went back in the living room, Hanji let the others know that they were heading off. Marco saw Jean come into the room, and he beckoned him closer. He was a little confused at first, but he sat on the couch next to him anyways.

“Hey, Marco.”

“Hi,” he said softly. “I’m sorry… that I can’t remember you every day. I’m just surprised that you would want to date me anyways.”

“Hey.” Jean reached out and placed his hand down on top of his. “It’s okay, I promise. I like spending time with you. You’re a really good guy.”

Marco smiled a bit, and Jean saw his shoulders relax. “Why couldn’t we have met a day before the accident?”

“It wouldn’t have been possible. I lived in Jersey.”

His smile only grew wider. “I see. But I guess I can’t wait to meet you again tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait either,” Jean said, as if to reassure him that he really was going to see him again tomorrow.

Marco looked down for a second. “Hey. I have a tip for you. When you see me tomorrow, I am a sucker for forget-me-nots… That’s a little ironic, isn’t it?”

The blush on his face made Jean chuckle. “It’s perfectly fine. I’ll remember that.”

“Okay.” He got up. “I’m gonna go shower.” He walked up the stairs, and he could’ve sworn he heard him start whistling. It was that song that he was singing yesterday. He couldn’t remember what it was called for the life of him.

Levi took that time to walk over. Perfect. Before he could say anything, Jean spoke first.

“Mr. Ackerman, I want to ask if I can borrow that folder.”

Of course his initial reaction was a bit unpleasant. “Why do you want it?”

What was he going to say again? “I want to help by using it. There needs to be a better way for him to find out about this every day, and I think I have an idea. I just need the folder.”

He didn’t speak. Erwin looked over, and they both said nothing. Was that good or bad?

“I mean, I’ll give it back right after I’m done,” Jean insisted.

Erwin sighed heavily. “Okay. We’re trusting that you are using them to help.”

“Risky move to trust you,” Levi muttered under his breath.

Once they said he could he picked the folder up from the couch. He nodded insistently. “Thank you. You won’t regret this, I promise. I’ll give them back.”

He had to hurry so that he could be able to have what he was planning ready by tomorrow. It was starting to get late. He wasn’t sure how polite of an exit he had, but he hoped that it was alright. He had a lot of work to do tonight.

Ymir watched him leave, and she sighed as she went in the kitchen to get something to eat. “He seems nice. I like him.”

“You do?” Erwin said.

“Yeah, Pa.” She made herself a sandwich. “He probably really wants to help. I just hope it works.”

“You and me both,” he sighed.

Levi glanced over at upstairs. Now that it was quieter down here he could hear Marco singing in the shower, even though there was a bit of a tremor that he could point out. “As long as he makes him happy.”

“That song is going to get stuck in my head again really fast,” Ymir groaned.

Deep down none of them really minded that.

\--

 _Jean groaned as he looked at_ his computer and tried editing the project some more. It was after midnight, and this was taking a lot longer than he had hoped. He was just hoping to get down soon so that he would be able to see Marco first thing in the morning.

He had the music running through his headphones as he stared at the screen with tired eyes. God, he really wished that he could dim the brightness on it any lower than what it already was. He rubbed his eyes and sat back.

“This is taking forever,” he sighed heavily. Jean was getting really tired.

He jumped up when feeling the vibrations from his phone on his lap. He pulled the headphones out from his ears and looked at it. Hitch was calling? He didn’t understand why she would, but it didn’t hurt to see what was up.

“Yeah?” was all he said for an answer while he continued editing.

“Hi, Jean,” she smiled one the other end. “Hey, you are still painting for a living, right?”

Jean slowly nodded. “Yeah… I am. What’s up?”

There was a momentary pause before Hitch spoke again. “My uncle is looking for someone that can work on advertising for his company.”

His heart raced. “Uh Hitch… Painting and advertising are two different things.”

“I know, but didn’t you say something about working on commissions using the computer?”

“…Yeah, but no big company ever really—”

“It’s only going to be for a couple months,” Hitch added. “He needs a new advertisement team, and I recommended you. He told me that he could give you a shot, and he could have someone give you necessary training if you need it. It’s going to be in New York City, though.”

This could not be happening. Was he really being offered a job like this? He couldn’t imagine how much he could be paid for working for this company. However, the main issue would be that he would have to go back up north to work for him. He was fine down here in Florida, but this was such a big opportunity for him.

Jean realized that the silence was probably starting to get really awkward, so he spoke after clearing his throat. “Hitch… is it possible that he could give me time to think this over? In the meantime, I can send him my portfolio.”

“He wants to get started before September. That gives you a month,” she said.

“Okay.” He nodded. “Hitch, thank you so much for this. Seriously, this is not an everyday thing.”

“No problem. I just sent you his contact information. I’ll let him know that you are deciding.”

“Yeah. Okay. T-thank you. Bye, Hitch.” He hung up his phone and bit down on his fist to hold back an ecstatic scream. A recommendation like this was a once in a lifetime chance, and he was willing to take that chance.

But one thought then stopped him as he looked at his screen and saw the in progress video that he had been editing for so far two hours. _Marco…_

Even if this was only going to take a couple months, he had to consider that if he succeeded in this job more people were going to want to hire him. Plus in New York City he was bound to be working for a big name company. However, if he left, then he would have to leave Florida behind for maybe more than just the time span that Hitch had said.

He couldn’t leave Connie here or force him to come back with him. He was already settled here, and they both agreed that they were co-paying for this house together until either of them could afford to live in their own place. Everyone was so nice here that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to leave them behind either. And he couldn’t imagine what would happen if he left Marco here.

He wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about him, and he wanted to start and continue his progress so that he could still live a happier life. It wasn’t fair to do that. But then he also figured that his parents were probably going to continue with this method even after he left, with some minor changes of course.

Well hey, it wasn’t like he was definitely going. He told Hitch that he was going to think it over, and he really was. He wanted to take this job so badly, but at the same time he wanted to stay and check on Marco to make sure that he was okay here. Jean Kirschtein was rather stuck in this situation, but he hoped that soon he could finally reach a decision. He had a month to figure it all out.


	7. Stubborn Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is no greater feeling than being able to understand what day it really is. Marco realizes this when at long last there was a method that he could take it in easier than getting a ticket for an expired inspection sticker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on having longer chapters. And since this chapter had been ready, I'm posting this one early to celebrate having over 1000 hits. Thank you all very much for thinking that this is any good!  
> Just a quick warning, this chapter has recreational drug use and shotgunning with weed. Twitter made me do it, but I enjoyed writing that particular scene! I hope you guys like this one, it's the longest one so far.
> 
> Here is my [tumblr.](http://flutefluffs-trash-bag.tumblr.com%22)

_"It's better to feel pain than nothing at all,_  
 _The opposite of love's indifference._  
 _So pay attention now, I’m standing on your porch screaming out_  
 _And I won’t leave until you come downstairs_  
 _So keep your head up, love_  
 _Keep your head up, my love_  
 _\- Stubborn Love,_  The Lumineers

* * *

 

 _It took about three days actually_ to work on his project. Most of that time was spent on him trying to figure out what the fuck that song Marco kept singing was called. He had Sasha’s help for that, thank goodness. But really he was having such a hard time with his computer. No matter, now he was finally done with it, and he could give it to Marco. He drank a lot of coffee before going out on the road. He had small bouquet of a flowers, a disc, and the folder from yesterday in his bag while he rode on his Harley to get to Marco’s house. He was out on the road to see him a lot earlier than usual. He wanted to catch him before he would go off to work.

So at about eight-thirty he just caught Marco about to leave when he pulled up at 104 Jinae Ave. Right before he would get into his car. He supposed that the others inside probably figured out he was here from hearing his bike.

Marco stepped closer just as Jean took his helmet off. “Hello…” He figured he was probably lost.

“Hi.” Jean smiled politely. “I have a delivery for Marco Bodt.”

He tilted his head. “That’s me… I don’t remember ordering anything, though.”

“Oh.” He got off his bike and looked through his bag. “It’s actually from a… secret admirer."

“A secret admirer?” Marco was a little bit intrigued. Who could possibly be his secret admirer? “What’s in there?”

“Hang on a sec.” Jean hurried to fish through his bag, having a bit of difficulty. Dammit, he was so awkward. He finally got the disc out and the flowers. But the flowers were now a little messed up thanks to the way he had his bag. “Oops.”

Marco laughed a bit and took the flowers from him. “Forget-me-nots,” he smiled. “These are my favorites.”

Ymir and Levi walked out of the house. They saw Jean, but of course he had to pretend that they didn’t know him. And so did they.

“Marco, who’s that?”

“Oh.” Marco glanced over at Levi. “Dad, this man was just sending me things. They’re from a secret admirer.”

“Secret admirer, huh?” Levi immediately looked at Jean. Of course he knew that it was from him.

When Jean then handed him the disc, Marco looked at it curiously. It was blank, and the only hint he got from it was that it was a DVD, judging by the giant “WATCH ME” written across it.

“Huh… There’s a disc too.”

Levi’s eyes narrowed as he assumed the wrong thing. He stepped closer to Jean and had that wild look in his eyes that showed he suspected the wrong thing. Understandable, which was why with hands raised in a quick surrender he tried to explain silently that there was nothing bad burned onto there. The man seemed very unconvinced.

Maybe actually seeing the video will change his mind.

“I’m gonna watch it,” Marco said, curious. He looked up and saw Ymir. “Good morning,” he smiled.

She just gave a wave that didn’t have much effort to it. “Yeah, good morning…”

“Happy birthday.” That bright smile was still on his face as he held his flowers. “I’m gonna go watch this before I go to work.”

The three of them went back inside. Jean followed subtly behind them, since he wanted to be there when Marco sat down to watch it. No one said anything, and Marco did not really notice. Good signs.

When in the living room Marco popped the disc into the player after turning on the TV. He sat down on the couch, feeling rather anxious about this interesting element of surprise that was about to be presented. The first thing that played was the menu, which he eagerly pressed play just as Erwin drowsily came downstairs.

“What’s going on?” he mumbled and rubbed his eyes. It was Saturday, and it was evident they really weren’t that much of morning people.

Jean then handed Erwin the folder that was sitting in his bag. “Here. I’m sure that you wanted these back.”

Levi noticed the folder too and then looked towards the television. Now he was curious on what exactly he did. Mostly they were all looking towards Marco, hoping that whatever this was, it was going to work.

The first thing that popped up on the screen was “ **GOOD MORNING, MARCO** ” in big, bold letters.

“Wow, it just jumps right into it,” Marco laughed. “I guess it’s about me.”

Playing in the background was whistling that he greatly recognized. That was the beginning to his song, the song that he sang whenever he felt happy. He was itching in his seat and smiled mainly from nerves.

“ **Everything is going to be okay** ,” it then said across the screen, the song in the background playing while Marco desperately tried not to sing along. “ **Here are some of the things that you have missed**.”

That threw him off a little bit. What did it mean by missing things? However he was intrigued. Most of it was news reports and big articles from around the world from the year 2012 to today. None of the things that were on the video he knew even happened. Confused, he often looked over at his fathers for some kind of reassurance, and they just nodded along, albeit Erwin was very drowsy still.

As the months were rolling by right before his eyes he was getting rather confused. All these months, these events, the years… Why was he being shown this? And why didn’t he know about these things already? Like the Summer and Winter Olympics and past Superbowls and different phenomena and crises.

Just as he was about to ask about it, the screen went back to its bold letters and said across it “ **Why don’t you remember this, you ask?** ” All he could do was nod, because that was exactly he had been wondering. The music was now going into an eerie decrescendo as the next words “ **This is why…** ” came up.

The very first thing that was then shown was a news article that looked like it was put under a scanner. Marco’s eyes widened as he saw the headlines: “ **BRUTAL TEXTING AND DRIVING ACCIDENT CAUSES TRAFFIC BUILD-UP**.” That was not the worst part. He saw his car in the picture. And it was _his_ car, and not some other person’s. It was _his_ car that was almost totaled and smoking from the engine. The caption underneath the picture brought tears to his eyes. He saw the date at the top: February 17 th 2012.

He moved his hand to his head, and he felt a large scar on the right side. He stared at the article still as it faded to black. He thought that it was done, so he went to get up, but he froze when he heard a voice.

“Okay, is this thing on?”

“Well, the red light is blinking. So maybe?”

“God dammit Connie, take the fucking lens cap off!”

Marco heard two different voices, and although he was on the verge of crying he sat back down, intrigued and a little curious once again. The first voice sounded a little familiar.

Finally there were images again. It was set in the bakery, however the first person he saw in it was… the guy that gave him the gifts from his secret admirer? He saw the man smile a bit and wave, and he tilted his head.

“Hello, Marco,” he started off. “I hope you didn’t turn this off yet.”

“Who, me?” the second voice from earlier asked from behind the view of the camera.

“Not you!” the first groaned. “I was talking about Marco.” He cleared his throat and looked forward again. “Anyways, my name is Jean Kirschtein. Believe it or not, we are actually dating. We have been for a little bit. I really like you, and… I think most days you like me too? At least that’s what I hope.”

Marco smiled briefly, and he quickly looked behind him. Jean was standing by the kitchen, watching him and giving him a small wave. Before either of them could speak, he heard Jean on the video again and turned back around to watch.

“We met here at Braun’s Pastries. You were working here, and I ordered pumpernickel bread for my friend Connie, that’s holding the camera.”

That was when the guy Connie turned the camera around and waved once his face came into view.

“Hi, Marco,” he said. “Sorry about your brain. By the way, the bread’s always delicious.”

“Connie, you don’t just say that!” Jean shouted from behind.

Marco couldn’t help but giggle a bit. Reiner was the one that made the bread, and he knew it. He saw the camera’s view shift back to Jean, and he was now over by the counter. Reiner was there and wiping it off. He kept looking up at Jean and rolling his eyes, but a playful smirk was shown on his lips.

“The bread’s mine.” Marco knew that Reiner would say that.

Jean shifted. “Okay anyways. It was right here at this counter. I decided to sit at the bench and wait with a bag of muffins. You were working on one of Ymir’s cakes, and you gave me such a nice smile. You told me to come over by this counter, and we started talking about ourselves after introducing ourselves. Not to sound weird or anything, but I know everything about you. But you know nothing about me.”

“That wasn’t too creepy, was it?” Jean said aloud in the room.

Marco turned his head and shrugged. “Maybe a little bit?” He wiped his eyes and looked back at the screen. He was feeling a little more relieved than before, than when he had been shown the news article from his accident.

Jean on the video rubbed his arm. “I lived in New Jersey until recently. Memorial Day weekend, actually. I’m an artist, and I often get commissions from people around the neighborhood, thanks to Reiner promoting me by painting a picture of the bakery. And I got paid _so_ much more money by him than anyone else, but don’t tell people in town that I said that, okay?”

He smiled and then noticed him grab something from behind the counter. He saw a moderately sized canvas, and saw that it was the painting that Jean had been talking about. It was of the bakery, where he worked every day and helped bake some of the pastries as well as eagerly decorated cakes. And all of it was so detailed and done so beautifully. There he saw the painted portion of Reiner behind the counter and taking bread out from the oven. And he saw himself doing what he did best while standing beside Reiner and tending to customers. It was a perfect image, and it was the best interpretation of it that he had ever seen.

“I hope you like it,” Jean said as he put the painting down carefully. “Because it’s going up on the wall above the door, and I don’t anything not being to your liking staying up there and not doing much justice.”

Marco wiped his eyes again as he smiled. The tears kept coming and welling up in his eyes. He did his best to not tighten his throat and held back the choked sobs that were threatening to evoke from him. He couldn’t cry yet, as much as he really wanted to.

He was watching this man that he had never met embarrass himself and at the same time attempt to comfort him by letting him know about his life and being so supportive. How could he be in a relationship with him?

To be honest, he just felt so relieved that now he could understand what was going on. It was not Ymir’s birthday, not even close. It was July. July of 2014. That was as much of the date as he currently knew.

“Jean, don’t break anything!” he then heard Reiner call in the background.

“I’m not! Chill your ball sac.” Jean had sat back on the bench.

Meanwhile the Jean that was standing in the living room gave Erwin and Levi an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry. I have a terrible temper if I don’t have a cigarette. Reiner has a no smoking policy, you know.”

“I know,” Levi sighed and crossed his arms.

The cameraman had his attention on someone else in the room that Marco couldn’t see. “So Sasha, y’want egg rolls?”

“It depends on where you’re getting them from.” He heard a woman’s voice that sounded familiar. Oh, that’s right. That was Sasha, one of his friends. Were she and this man Connie together? He could only assume so, and he rather liked this guy already. He was pretty funny.

“I’m getting them from the restaurant up the road,” Connie said. “And the usual?”

Jean in the video let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed his face. “Can you guys order _after_ we finish this?”

“But we’re hungry!” Connie whined.

“We’re almost done. Just chill.” Jean chuckled and looked back at the camera. “You’re probably watching this and thinking, ‘What the hell is this mess?’ And I’m sorry, I’m just being an asshole.”

“Connie, Eren and Armin want egg rolls too!”

“Great, Sasha,” Connie had said, and Marco sensed the smile on his lips.

“Save it for later!” Jean groaned. “Oh… and, get me one too. I’m starving.”

Marco laughed, trying to breathe evenly from his mouth because he had been plagued with a serious case of the sniffles. He rubbed the back of his head and scratched his scalp.

Jean started talking again. “I know you’re probably scared and confused, and wondering that why this had to happen to you. But it’s okay, I promise. You have such an amazing family and great friends that are there to support you. They have helped you day by day live a happy life, but with this video, we hope that you will live a happier one now that you know the truth. You can start your life, y’know? Get your lives started up again and spend some quality time together without having to taste that same red velvet or chocolate birthday cake.”

Marco covered his mouth to muffle a choked sob. He shifted forward more in his seat, mesmerized by what was being played on the screen. He wiped his eyes and glanced back over at his parents. Erwin and Levi were watching him. Already they noticed such a difference compared to other days where he would find out about his accident. It wasn’t sudden, it wasn’t forced. It was just a slow transition mixed with the right amount of comfort. This was what they had both hoped to achieve and had spent two years trying to do. But Jean had gotten it all done in one night.

The video was coming to an end, and Jean spoke his last few sentences. “You can take all the time you need to think it over. You can ask questions, get informed, and you can get your life back. Enjoy the rest of your day, Marco. You’re amazing, and… not to sound cheesy or anything, but ‘Home is whenever I’m with you.’”

“Jean, you’re so ratchet.” Sasha snorted in the background.

He groaned. “Just order the Chinese, or I’ll get it myself.”

“You get it please!”

“Yeah, Jean!” Connie said.

He sighed and nodded. “Okay, you guys win.” Jean looked back at the camera. “Have a nice day.” He gave him a soft smile. “Connie… now you can turn it off.”

“Where’s the ‘off’ button?”

“Connie, are you kidding me?” Jean smacked his own forehead. “C’mere, let me get it.” There was then no one there on the screen as they both tried working on how to turn the camera off. “Shit, why won’t it go off?”

“I thought it was off already,” Connie insisted.

Reiner moved from behind the counter. “I swear, if one of you don’t get it—”

“I got it, you ninnies!” Sasha sighed and then the screen went to black.

Marco realized that the video was over, and he breathed out a long sigh, rubbing his eyes again. He was hoping to dry them before he looked at his parents again, but that was not possible. And Ymir noticed that he had been crying as he had watched the video.

“…How many times did I watch that video?” was all that he asked first.

Erwin answered his question. “This is the first time you did.”

He nodded and his eyes traveled to Jean, who was still watching him. “That… wasn’t corny,” he whispered, talking about the part where he had repeated the lyrics from _Home_. “It was cheesy. You’re referencing a completely different food.”

Jean blushed and grinned. “Cheesy, huh?”

Marco breathed deeply again and beckoned him to move closer to him on the couch. He watched Jean come over, and his heart pounded. This man had been looking after him, trying to get his attention, and introducing himself every single day like they were meeting for the very first time. Deep down he admired that so much, and he sincerely wished that he knew him more.

As Jean watched the other’s eyes water, he moved closer and sat on the couch. “Hey…”

He watched him closely and looked him up and down. He reached out his shaking hand and placed it on his shoulder. He moved it down to his side and just slowly rubbed there as he took another shuddering breath. This felt so surreal.

“H-have we ever even hugged, Jean?” he stammered.

That was such a nice question that he didn’t expect. He was worried it would be like yesterday, where he would be asking about whether or not they kissed or slept with each other. To answer his question, he shook his head. “Actually… we haven’t. The most physical contact we’ve had together was a handshake.”

Marco nodded, and his eyes watered more as he closed them. “I’m changing that,” he said softly as his voice cracked, and his arms tightly looped around Jean’s frame.

Of course Jean was surprised at first, and maybe a bit overjoyed. He was really happy that this video really worked for Marco, and he hoped that his family was thrilled about that too. After all, they were now able to live their lives how they wanted to know that they could show him this in the morning when he woke up. But Jean was even more excited when realizing that Marco had accepted that they had been in a relationship together. He wanted to make sure that he would not disappoint him, and he wanted to keep him safe and prevent things like the other day with the ticket from ever happening again.

When Marco’s shoulders tensed, Jean realized that he was crying. He held him, although he was initially a little awkward and hesitant. He rubbed his back and just let him relax, staying quiet and letting him just let it out because he himself was not really sure what he was supposed to say at the minute to comfort him. It seemed that letting him cry really helped him the most.

He felt his hair slowly, and Marco was notably even closer. Now that Jean was close enough to him, he realized that damn, he really was gorgeous. He had a strong jawline, and his body was just perfectly fit. Made Jean a little bit self-conscious for a minute there, because he never expected this long-legged, scruffy man really had wanted to be with him quite a few of these days before the video was shown.

“I’m such an ugly crier,” Marco gasped when he could find the words to speak. “I’m sorry.”

“No it’s okay,” he insisted with a small smile. God, he was so warm. He wanted to stay like this on the couch with him, even though he honestly felt a little squished underneath him. There were days that he imagined that he could be the bigger spoon. Today was not one of them.

Marco looked up at Jean and gave them a bit more personal space once he was calmer. “Hey… If I didn’t have to go to work, I would ask if you wanted to… I don’t know…” He trailed off.

“Actually I talked to Reiner,” Jean said. “He said that your day off is on Saturdays, and today is the fifth of July. So I was thinking that maybe we can go down to the beach for a little while. Catch up on things with your friends. They really miss you.”

As Marco listened to him he smiled. “I really want to know how they are doing.”

“Great,” he nodded. “I’ll let them know you’re ready to see them. I can ride there on my bike, and you can go in your car.”

“Sounds like a plan.” He graciously got up from the couch. “Don’t go anywhere, I gotta get ready.” He looked over at the clock. “Wow, it’s already ten o’clock? That was a long video.”

Jean laughed and stood up as he watched him rush upstairs. He looked over at Erwin and Levi, who still looked fucked out tired but also pretty amazed. This must have been a good sign.

“So now he can go out and have a good time, catch up on friends,” Jean insisted. “Then you can play this every morning when he wakes up. You guys can get your lives back this way.”

They watched listened to him and Erwin cleared his throat in an attempt to then keep his voice from sounding like he was exhausted. “Yes. That is a good plan. Thank you, Jean.”

“Yeah… thanks,” Levi mumbled. “We don’t know why we hadn’t thought of this before.”

“No problem,” he said. He then felt someone punch his shoulder and quickly turned his head. Damn, Ymir really had a hard fist. “What the hell was that for?”

“That hurt?” she chuckled. “I meant to say thanks. And remember…” She leaned closer. “Even though you’re on our good side now, and I think that you right now are pretty good for my brother, if you do anything to hurt him I’ll shove that disc so far up your ass that it will start playing from your mouth. Got it?”

With a thick gulp, Jean nodded. “Yeah. Got it.”

After she moved back Marco came downstairs. Instead of the usual casual clothing he wore to work, he now was wearing shorts and a shirt that shows off his broad shoulders, tight against his frame.

 _Don’t blush insanely, Jean._ He did anyways. Good thing was that Marco was not as weirded out by it as he could have been. Maybe it was because now he knew that they had been in some form of a relationship. Knowing that made Jean feel very excited. At last he could be able to spend a day with Marco like he had thought he would the day after they first met. It would be a date. And it was an incredible feeling.

“Too little?” Marco then said with a laugh, talking about the amount of clothing that was on his body.

“N-no, it’s perfect,” he insisted and cleared his throat. “We’re going to the beach after all.”

“Right.” Marco smiled and walked over to Erwin and Levi. “I’ll see you guys later, then.”

They both nodded, liking the bright, happy look on their son’s face that they hadn’t seen in so long. The two of them gave Jean another grateful look while they walked over to the door.

“Have a good time,” Levi called out.

“I will!” Marco hurried outside and to his car while Jean got on his Harley, and they both started the smooth, quick ride with them not being too far from each other on the road.

\--

 _Jean got Armin, Eren, and Mikasa_ to come to the beach first, so that Marco can be reintroduced to Armin’s boyfriend while they caught up on some things that happened after Marco’s accident. Sasha and Connie came a little bit later, bringing the fact that they were in a close relationship to Marco and telling him that Connie was the reason why there was never any pumpernickel bread at the bakery. Reiner and Bertholdt came by around noon, right when they were at the bar and grill together so they could eat lunch.

Marco was so amazed and at the same time guilty that he missed so much. So many good things had happened after his accident that he had no idea would happen in the first place. He eagerly talked with all of them, and Jean just stayed quiet as he watched him laugh at their jokes, nod eagerly at their words when telling him stories, and smile so brightly that it can put the rising sun to shame.

Marco then looked at Jean as they were eating and gave him that sunny smile once more. “This has been so nice,” he smiled. “I’m really glad that I did this.”

“So am I,” Jean said and looked over just as Reiner wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“Yeah, you did good.” He grinned at the two of them and shifted. “I haven’t seen him look so happy in so long.”

Jean was not sure how to respond in all honesty. He just smiled and shrugged his hand off his shoulder. “I’m just glad to see him happy.”

Reiner guided his head to make sure that he was looking right at Marco. And now that Jean’s head was held there by Reiner he could see that twinkle in the man’s eye, the sweetness in his smile. He could see the way he that his fingers ran absentmindedly through his hair when he was excited, how his eyebrows arched so nicely when he found something amusing, and the way that when he laughed hard enough the slightest snort could be heard. Qualities he hadn’t seen or noticed thus far from meeting him every day.

Forget the fucking sun being compared to him. With his bright demeanor and such a beautiful personality, the entire galaxy was just a dim nightlight against his shining smile.

This poetry was not getting Jean anywhere.

Bertholdt looked at the time on his watch. “Oh Reiner.” He got up from his seat. “You’d better get back to the bakery.”

“You’re right.” Reiner smiled and then stood beside his partner. Upon moving away Marco quickly rushed over and gave him a tight hug.

“Hey,” he mumbled softly into his shoulder. “Thank you for being so nice every day, even though I had my accident and am probably not that productive.”

“No it’s okay,” he insisted. “It is a pleasure having you around the bakery and working. There are so many things that I am grateful for because of that.”

Marco smiled, and he nudged his arm. “Alright, now go about your day, okay? Have fun.”

“I will,” Reiner said and held Bertholdt’s hand as he took him out of the building.

Sasha took the initiative to get up as well, and she placed her money for the bill on the table. “Okay. We’d better get going.”

“Wha?” Connie groaned and went to take his money out. “Why? We were just having fun.”

“Oh well, I don’t know,” she said, “maybe there a couple of people that really want to spend some time to themselves.” Her gaze kept quickly shifting to Jean and Marco as she spoke. “We can go back to the house and start that game I bought.”

“True.” Connie quickly patted Jean’s shoulder. “Good luck, buddy!”

“Yeah,” Jean groaned. “Now stop embarrassing me.”

Connie shrugged and smiled as both he and Sasha rushed out. Jean turned around and noticed Marco talk to Eren and Armin, with Mikasa watching them closely. She glanced over at Jean, and just like with Sasha, it was as if she knew that they needed time alone. Understandable. Besides, Eren had a doctor’s appointment and his car was in the shop.

“Eren, we have to get going,” she said as she got up.

“Aw man!” he groaned and got up, with Armin standing next to him.

“Hey, you’ll be fine,” Armin chided as he took his hand. “Get it done and over with.”

“Yeah, but… do I have to get shots?”

“Well, we won’t know until you go,” he laughed. “Come on.” He waved at Armin. “Bye, Marco!”

“Bye.” Marco waved as well. “It was nice meeting you, Eren!”

“Yep!” Then they quickly went on their way, racing each other to the car it seemed.

Mikasa then looked at Marco and they shook hands warmly. “It was nice seeing you like this again. We all have to do this again sometime.”

“Yeah,” he smiled. He gave her a hug and sighed. “I don’t want to forget you and Eren again, though.”

“It’s okay,” she insisted and rubbed his back a bit. “I wouldn’t mind introducing myself to you again.”

Marco gave her a nod, and as she left he said a hearty goodbye with a smile plastered to his face. When he looked at Jean, he had such a pleasant gleam in his eyes. He held out his hand, which Jean insistently took hold of. This was really happening. Marco was thinking of them as being a couple. And not a couple in the sense of them being strangers either.

They walked out and held their shoes in their opposite hands, while their fingers intertwined with each other and they dug their toes in the sand. They talked each other’s ear off, with Jean hearing everything he had before, and Marco listening like he was being told for the very first time.

Jean squeezed his hand lightly as they walked. “Hey Marco… do you have any allergies?” He knew that he was allergic to peanuts, but he wanted to make sure that he was aware of any other allergies that he might have.

“Well, I’m allergic to peanuts,” Marco said while they walked. “Shellfish and bees too. And I’m also severely allergic to latex. Can’t touch it.”

Jean wasn’t aware of the last three. And now that he knew, he was glad he asked. “Alright. I’ll keep those things in mind.”

“Good,” he grinned. “That would’ve been very bad if you didn’t know any of them in the future.”

He nodded and laced his fingers in between his, bringing his hand up. “This has been really nice.”

“Yeah.” Marco nodded and smiled as he looked out at the ocean. The birds were flying overhead along the horizon, which showed from the darkening sky that the sun was starting to set. He sighed softly. “The day’s already almost over.”

Jean nodded and turned to face him. “I know.”

As he looked at him, Marco held onto his arms. He had to lower his head a bit so that he could look Jean in the eye. “Why couldn’t I have met you a day before the accident?”

Jean shrugged. “I’m not sure. Fate has a pretty cruel way of planning out people’s destinies, I suppose.”

“It’s the bane of my existence now, to be honest.” He still had a soft smile on his face, although his eyes showed that he was starting to feel a little sad. “Tomorrow I’m gonna forget about you again. ‘S not fair.”

“I know,” Jean admitted. “But you know, I don’t mind it at all. Just as long as I get to talk to you every day, I couldn’t ask for anything better.”

There was a light blush on Marco’s face that made Jean smile just as softly as he did.

“Well Jean…” he then said to break the silence. “You said that we never even hugged before this morning, right?”

Jean nodded. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Then, I suppose that we haven’t kissed either.”

The blush rose in his cheeks so fast. “…Yep. It’s true, we didn’t yet.”

Marco smiled, tilting his chin up and slowly running his thumb along his jawline. They were so close to each other, and they both could hear the waves crashing along the shore and the gulls cries sounding in the distance. It was kind of peaceful, almost lulling them into a pleasantly drunken state of mind.

“Can we change that then?” he asked softly. “Nothing ever beats a first kiss, you know.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” he stammered, flustered. “Of course we can change that. I guess. I-if that’s not too forward… I mean—”

As if to shut him up, Marco pressed a light kiss against his forehead. It worked. Jean was silent, but of course his face gave him the impression that he was really embarrassed but at the same time so ready. And he was. Marco leaned in close, and as Jean’s eyes slipped closed he imagined that the feeling of the other’s lips would be so soft, so sweet, unlike anything that he ever felt was humanly possible.

And it was.

\--

 _After that first date there were_ many more, most of them being at the beach at night after Marco would come back from work. The video that he had given him worked so well, and it was much easier for Marco to realize that hey, it wasn’t the day that he thought it was. It was a completely different year, a totally different mindset that the world created overtime that he was a little late to the party for. But now that there was a much better support group, he was able to easily adjust, to realize that life was moving just as quickly as he imagined it would. To see that hey, there was someone in this world that took his time to show how much he cared.

They would stay there for hours, soaking up the sun—or in Jean’s case, fucking absorbing it according to the now bright red pigment on his shoulders. Right here at Miami Beach at a time where there were less people in the area taking up most of the space on the sand.

It was there where they were currently surrounding a campfire. By “they,” meaning the two of them as well as Connie and Sasha. The others were around, but Jean remembered Reiner saying that he was taking Bertholdt out to eat. Something like that.

“Hey I think Annie is out here,” Sasha then said.

“Awesome!” Connie grinned.

Jean looked confused and tilted his head. “Wait, Annie?”

Marco nodded. “Yeah. She works at a drug store a bit away from the bakery. But, the reason why they are buzzing about her this much is that—”

“She’s got pot!” Connie was so giddy.

“Oh my fucking god, Connie!” Jean shoved him but was laughing either way. God, when was the last time he went and popped a cherry? He didn’t even remember.

“It wouldn’t hurt to have a little bit,” Marco shrugged. “Besides, Sasha drove us all here.”

“True,” Jean said. “I just haven’t had it in so long.”

“Me neither,” Marco admitted. “I haven’t had it since the last set of finals I had. Which were… Wow, that’d be over two years ago.” So surreal. Well hey, maybe he could have some to relax since his mind was still racing even though the sun was now setting. Just something to help ease the odd feeling in his mind that something was still off even though everything had been explained to him. Just an out of place feeling. Like he didn’t even fit into the time period anymore. Smoking usually helped him relax, and since Annie was around he could have something even better than cigarettes to ease his tension.

“So, where’s Annie?” Connie asked.

“I think she’s over by the boardwalk.”

“Way down there?” he groaned at hearing Sasha. He then sighed. “Alright. Well I need it. You guys want it?”

Marco was the first to nod. “One won’t hurt.” And after saying that Jean agreed with him.

They both handed Connie enough money to split it between them, while Sasha sat back and watched the fire. The sky was getting darker, and there were less people out here on the beach and more over by the boardwalk. Annie was definitely there, and Connie had to convince her to take the price that he had for having just a couple.

Jean crossed his arms and looked out towards the water. Low tide. It was still just as peaceful as every other time they visited here, and the glint of the moonlight along the water was just as soothing. Picked a perfect day to decide that he needed to be taken places, in that sense. It was just so calm. And by the way Marco was leaning against him and sighing softly while nuzzling his neck, he felt the same way about the scenery. It was just so relaxing.

Connie then came over, and he sat back down next to Sasha. “I got ‘em!” He handed one to Jean and another to Marco. “Let’s blaze it!”

“Connie, chill,” Jean chuckled. “It’s not like you haven’t had it in a long while.”

“Hey, three months is a long while, thank you very much.” Rolling his eyes, he took his own and already lit it. Sasha watched and nudged his shoulder as he puffed out the smoke after taking a drag, making him cough.

Jean couldn’t help but keep looking at Marco after he’d lit his. He looked sexy enough when smoking cigarettes, but this… This showed how relaxed he could be, how mellow he was and how sound he seemed each time he inhaled it. And as he watched, he was just about to do the same when of course he dropped it on the sand.

He groaned when looking at it, knowing it probably wasn’t going to be as good anyways now that it had started splitting when it was under his grip.

“That sucks,” Connie sighed, a light fog coming out from his mouth as he exhaled.

Jean picked it up anyways, but he instead put it in his pocket, cringing at the way it came apart once inside. Wasted a perfectly good blunt all because he had been distracted by the sultry prince with the Mary Jane. Oh, the things that ran through his mind just by watching him.

Marco noticed this and shifted closer. “You really wanted some, didn’t you?”

He nodded, crossing his arms. “Actually, yeah.”

With a slight tilt of his head he took the blunt and took a deep breath of it in. “I think I can help you,” he said as traces of smoke escaped his lips. “Ever done shotgunning?”

Jean didn’t think that he could be any redder than how he was now, and that also included the amount of blush on his face. “Just an hour ago you were asking me if we kissed yet—which was a yes—and now you wanna do this?”

He nodded and gave him a sated smile, his hand running along his stubbly chin. “Yeah. I mean… we are a couple, right? I would be kinda weirded out if I found out that this was all just a plan for you to take me to your place and chop me up with an axe.”

“O-oh, it’s all true!” he insisted, his voice cracking. That made Connie laugh so hard, and he threw piece of charred, blackened wood leftover from the fire at him. “I mean, I just didn’t expect it.”

Marco looked at him, and judging by the look in his eyes he seemed nervous. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s the same thing as just regularly smoking it. Just… in a different way.”

“I know that, it’s not rocket science.” He crossed his arms and stared down at the ground. “Okay, let’s do it. I don’t want to be the only sober one here.”

“Hey, I’m right here!” It was Sasha’s turn to throw something at Jean. “It’s not that bad, but whatever. Just remember that I am driving you guys home!”

“Alright, sorry.” He sure as hell didn’t want to get stuck out here when it was time for them to go. He had to stay on Sasha’s good side. He then looked at Marco. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

That princely laugh filled the area again. “Just relax. And keep your lips parted when I come close enough.” He brought it up to his lips again and took a hit. He held it in and leaned in.

Knowing when to, Jean gulped before he parted his lips, his eyes half-lidded as Marco blew the smoke hotly into his mouth. For a second, he was lost. Holy shit, how much charisma and smoothness he had even when they were doing this. Jean sucked in a breath, allowing the smoke in, but he did it a little too quickly, making him cough a little bit.

At that Marco rubbed his back. “You okay?” When whispering while in this state, his voice sounded even warmer than before.

He was so caring about him, even now. Jean nodded. “Y-yeah. Just got too excited.”

He grinned and tilted his head back a bit to take another drag. His eyes were starting to get a little red around his irises, and he had this grin on his face. This placid, show-stopping grin. They leaned close again, and this time Jean did not choke on his own lack of self-control when he breathed it in from Marco’s parted lips. And when he let that out his shoulders relaxed.

They took a moment to look at each other, and Sasha was watching while her jaw had dropped. After the third try their method was so fluid that the smoke that surrounded the two kept them in a heated, peaceful fog.

Connie had finished his and laid back on the sand, his hands behind his head as he stared up at the stars. He occasionally glanced at Jean and Marco. “I feel like I’m staring at two stoner angels.”

After they exchanged a few puffs Marco was even more pressed against Jean as he laughed when hearing Connie. Jean’s arms crossed while his face turned as red as his eyes.

“It’s really funny watching you guys,” Sasha then said. “This is gonna be a rather fun car ride.”

“You think?” Connie grinned.

“Yeah, you’re not going to have that look once you get the munchies.” She smiled as she kicked some sand onto his torso. He quickly pushed it away and sat up, looking offended.

Marco was pretty giggly when he was high. He often touched Jean’s skin a lot as well, with his hand running smoothly along his shoulder while he lazily nuzzled his hair from time to time.

“I think you might get this a lot,” he then murmured, “but… why couldn’t I have met you a day before the accident?”

“Dunno,” Jean sighed, but he smiled at him. “Sometimes things like that happen. And there’s no way to control it. But you know, I don’t mind it.”

“I feel like you’ve probably said that a lot too,” Marco chuckled.

“Well… you wouldn’t be wrong there.” He kept close and looked down at the blunt that was still between Marco’s fingers. “But hey, we have our ways of making it work.”

As Marco smiled he shifted closer. “It think this is good for one more, right?”

He glanced at it again and nodded, watching him bring it up to his lips. “Yeah. ‘S good.”

Smiling, they stayed close while Marco took one last drag. Jean parted his lips, and just as he sucked it in lazily after Marco blew in, their lips touched just as Jean let out a warm breath of air with the smoke clouding around them. They shifted closer so that their lips locked, exchanging a slow but deep kiss.

Their previous kisses had always been gentle, and this was definitely one of them. But this one had much more feeling. It was more electrifying, more intoxicating, and the fact that they were under this blissful cloud probably made it much more pleasant.

While they kissed Connie looked at Sasha and gagged a bit. “Too gushy, make it stop _._ ”

“Relax, Connie. I got this.” She smiled and then glanced over. “Hey Marco, hold back on your Dale Cooper impression for a little bit!”

At that Marco quickly pulled away, his face a dark red. “ _Sasha!_ ”

“…Dale Cooper?” Jean stared at Marco. “You like to impersonate Dale Cooper?”

“N-no!” He quickly hid his face. “Oh my god, it was an inside joke from college! Sasha and Armin came to visit me, and they walked in on me watching porn!”

“That is actually a very funny story—”

“Let’s not talk about it, please!” Marco laughed and hid his face. “Never talk about it ever, actually!”

“Okay, okay.” Jean figured that he probably was going to bring up that he knew about that in the future. Because he could.

Marco leaned close and pressed his lips against Jean’s neck, making the blonde shiver as his eyes traveled down to the top of his head to see his dark, silky hair. Seeing him look up and smile made his heart melt and his head lighter than air.

“Alright, clean up your messes.” Sasha intentionally took them out of their mood. “We’d better get going before it gets too late.”

They made sure that nothing was left on the ground, and Sasha put out the fire. It took a little bit for Connie to get up on his feet, but once he did he took off like a bullet, already heading to his girlfriend’s car.

“We’re dropping Marco off first!” she called out to him as Jean and Marco tried keeping up with the two of them.

After the four of them got into the car, Connie kept complaining about how hungry that he was getting, with Sasha repeatedly telling him that he would get home very soon. Meanwhile, Marco was as close to Jean as the seatbelt would allow. He kept looking out the window while Jean’s fingers slowly ran through his hair.

As Jean watched him he looked down. “Hey, you okay?”

There was a small nod. “It’s just… really weird. Knowing that I lost two years of my life.”

“Marco…” Jean continued to stroke his hair. “You didn’t lose them. Trust me, there are so many ways that you can still enjoy life, even if you think that yesterday was February 16th.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “And… I guess I should just be happy that I’m alive.” He glanced up. “Kinda sucks though that I have to meet you for the first time every day.”

“True, but… at least every day I try and not make it seem like, plot twist: I’m actually an asshole.”

Marco smiled at hearing that. “Well, I suppose that is a good thing. But I wouldn’t mind finding out that you’re actually an asshole.”

“Oh, _believe_ me. You would.” Jean glanced up when seeing that they pulled up at Marco’s house. “Okay, so… I’ll meet you again tomorrow?”

A small nod and a smile. Marco nuzzled Jean’s neck. “Yeah. I can’t wait.”

Almost reluctant to do so, the two of them exchanged a kiss goodbye. They knew that tomorrow, when Marco wakes up, he would not remember this day. He would not remember this special relationship with Jean. He would not remember that he had met him and formed such a bond with him. He would not remember how it feels to kiss this man that devoted his time to making him happy and helping him go on with life.

And knowing that he was also not going to remember anything about everyone’s lives since “yesterday” was the worst of all.

An obnoxious honking of the horn was what made them finally pull away, and they both winced at the sudden noise. Sasha looked at the two of them and smiled cheekily.

“Come on, Marco. You have to get inside before your dad thinks we’re having an orgy in here.”

“He’s not going to think that!” he blushed and looked at his boyfriend again. He kissed him quickly before getting out. “So yeah. Tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Jean smiled. “Tomorrow.”

He watched Marco wave before hurrying back inside, and then the car started moving. He sighed deeply and leaned back against the seat. _Tomorrow…_ There was always going to be a tomorrow with Marco. And many more of them to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder that my tag for this fic is "#fic: home jm" if you wish to track it for updates on it.


	8. You'll Be Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deep breaths and careful brush strokes do no justice for how much Jean loves the confidence Marco displays as he lies there on the futon, fully exposed and watching him work on the painting that makes him realize he is in love with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This by the way has one of my favorite scenes throughout this whole fic, and I hope you enjoy it! Thank you for the 100 kudos. It doesn't seem like much, but every single one of them really means a lot to me and I appreciate it so much!
> 
> My [tumblr.](http://flutefluffs-trash-bag.tumblr.com)

_“Let it go, Fly away_

_And say goodbye to Yesterday_

_‘Cause you’re never alone_

_And I will always be there_

_You just carry on_

_You will understand”_

-       _You’ll be okay,_ A Great Big World

* * *

 

 _Holding on for dear life, Marco_ practically smothered Jean when burying his face in his shoulder. His larger frame engulfed him while he held on tight and prayed that he won’t fall off of the motorcycle. Jean was a little apprehensive himself, since he had Marco wear his helmet while he had nothing to protect his head.

“Have you ever been on one of these before?” Jean called as he turned down Jinae Avenue, taking Marco home from a date.

“No I haven’t!” His fingers curled into Jean’s sides, his grip already pretty tight. “Well… If you don’t count on the way to dinner!”

Jean just laughed as he slowed down and pulled into the driveway. His hair was all mussed up from the breeze, and Marco did not pull away until the bike was parked. Then he hurried off and removed the helmet before kneeling down on the ground.

“Oh, sweet earth,” he gasped as he felt the gravel. “I missed you so.”

“Relax, at least you had a helmet on.” Shaking his head and smiling, Jean went and helped Marco back up onto his feet. “Did you have a good time?”

“Other than fearing for my life? Yeah.” He smiled while ruffling Jean’s hair. “It looks really fluffy.”

Jean blushed as he smiled. “Not quite what I had in mind.”

Marco went ahead and felt his hair again. “It _is_ fluffy! What do you use?”

“Whatever is at the dollar store,” he shrugged. “That and a _lot_ of conditioner.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I can’t use too much conditioner. It makes my hair really oily.”

“Well hey, maybe your hair is soft too.” Jean had to reach up in order to feel his boyfriend’s hair, since he was a lot taller. He smiled as he ran his fingers through it. “It think that it’s soft.”

“Sure, but not fluffy.”

“Don’t get so sore just because it’s not fluffy,” he chuckled, standing up on his tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

Marco smiled. “Okay…”

Jean kept looking up at Marco’s face. God, he really was gorgeous. When he realized that he was staring too long, he diverted his eyes down to their feet. “So uh… I’ll see you tomorrow.”

There was a small sigh that came from the brunette. “Yeah… tomorrow.”

He looked up again. The tone in his voice was so solemn. “You okay?”

Marco shrugged. “I know that _you’ll_ be seeing me tomorrow, but for me it’s gonna be the first time meeting you. Again.”

He came to this term a lot at the end of the day. “Sure, we have met each other and then re-met each other every day,” Jean said. “But it’s okay, I promise. I really like spending time with you like this, even if it means that I have to reintroduce myself tomorrow.”

The silence was stalled by the sounds of the crickets chirping near the marsh. Marco’s hand ran through his hair as he nodded. “Why do you do this every day? I just wish that I could’ve met you the day before my accident.”

“I wish that too,” he admitted. “But it honestly would have been impossible. I wasn’t down here at all two years ago. And I moved here from Jersey in May.”

“That’s upsetting to hear.” Marco looked over at his house. “I’d better get back inside.”

“Hey, you’re a twenty-four year old man,” he chuckled. “It’s okay.”

“I know, but still.” He looked back down at Jean. “Sometimes I worry my parents when I’m out late like this. I just want them to know that I’m okay.”

He had a point there. Earlier today before dinner, Erwin and Levi were completely against the idea of having Marco ride on the back of his motorcycle. But after two hours of reassuring them that he was going to have his helmet on to protect his head, they _considered_ it, but they didn’t exactly _allow_ it. Judging by the Harley that Marco was currently standing next to, it was easy to see that they actually did not listen to them.

When Jean felt Marco stroke his hair again, he glanced up and gave him a small, but pleasant smile. What sent shivers down his spine was when his boyfriend leaned down and he felt him kiss his forehead after he closed his eyes. That made him press closer against him, with his arms securely holding him around his shoulders. Warm hands moved down to his waist, and he smiled while nuzzled his head up against his chin.

Marco’s thumb ran along his jawline when he looked up. “How about a kiss goodbye first?” he then said.

“I would gladly take up that offer,” Jean murmured.

And then they had their fifteenth first kiss. It started off as tender as any other, however there seemed to be more. Jean figured that it was because of the way that Marco’s teeth lightly tease at his lower lip to evoke a gasp from him that made his lips part. They both took that initiative, their tongues melding together as their breaths went in and out hotly. Jean could feel his pierced tongue moving along his own, and it made him shiver from the strange contact but also hum with excitement.

Jean grabbed handfuls of his flannel shirt, trying to remember to think, to follow his lead, to fucking _breathe._ His pants were coming out quickly, but when Marco was kissing him so deep that it nearly sweeps him off his feet it was rather difficult to. He had many fantasies of kisses like these with the brunette, and now that he was actually experiencing them and he knew that it was all not just a dream, it was even more thrilling and intoxicating. He could safely say that he could get addicted to these kisses if he got them more often.

But the cruel innuendo behind that was that there was no way of knowing that being kissed like this would happen again in the future. It was a mystery. A terribly stressful mystery that had no way around it to keep himself from being left in the dark.

When they pulled away, Jean found himself trying to move closer to kiss him again, which Marco allowed without any protest. He’d leaned down more to be able to get more of him, and Jean was so eager that his soft moans he evoked every time he felt his piercing made him bring him even closer and closer to his frame. It was getting so hot—maybe a little too hot, and Jean knew that he probably should pull away before things got too awkward. But he couldn’t bring himself to break the kiss or even attempt to move away from him.

Probably the only reason why he did was when he was startled back by a loud car horn. His face was flushed as the two of them both looked over at where they heard the noise. It was from Ymir and Krista, who both had just gotten out of the car.

“Hey, this better not turn into an intro of a porno, okay?” Ymir called. “We don’t need any kinky shit happening in the driveway.”

“Ymir!” Marco knew that she was teasing, but still. “I’m an adult, leave me be!”

The other couple held hands, and Krista started to lead the way inside the house because she could tell how embarrassed the two of them were. “You know better.”

“But it’s too much fun, babe!” Ymir laughed and looked back at her brother and his boyfriend. “Keep it safe, kiddos!”

“Just get inside!” Marco blushed. “I’ll be in the house in two minutes!”

His sister just nodded. “I’m timing it!” They both went into the house after that.

Jean kept looking towards the door in bewilderment. He was still in a daze from the kiss, and he didn’t know exactly how to come back down to earth just yet. He wanted to go back up into the clouds, were it was much sweeter and Marco would be right there with him. But the moment had died. There was no way they could get back into it with Ymir’s words ringing in both of their heads.

It seemed that Marco was still trying to catch his breath, and that was when Jean realized that he had been laughing. “Have we ever gotten that far before?”

 _Have we?_ Once his mind got back into its normal set, Jean cleared his throat as he shook his head. “No. That’s the farthest we’ve ever gotten.”

And at hearing that Marco smiled. “You’re a pretty good kisser.”

“ _Me?_ ” he blushed. “Have you noticed how good _you_ are?”

“Well no, but that is very nice of you to say.” He had his hands on his hips and looked up confidently. “It’s great to know that I’m a great kisser.”

“You definitely have that tongue ring to use as an advantage,” Jean mumbled.

Marco grinned and took his hand. “It definitely has its perks.” He looked at that door. “Knowing Ymir, she probably is timing me. I’d better get inside.”

“Yeah,” Jean nodded. “So, tomorrow.”

The brunette smiled as he kissed him, shortly but sweetly. “Tomorrow.”

As Jean watched him go inside, the grin returned on his face, and he hopped up onto his bike and got it running. But after his helmet had been fastened and he was on the road once more, a sudden pang of realization hit him like a brick wall.

They claimed that one another was a good kisser, but tomorrow morning, Marco was not going to remember that. They had their first breathtaking, mind-blowing kiss out of the fifteen first kisses that they experienced each day that they went out together, along with several others in between, but none of them were going to stay in his memory. Not a single one of them.

By the time he got back to the beach house he made his entire mood go down just by thinking about this. This situation was so unfair, but he was going to stick to it until the bitter end that hopefully was not going to be for a long, _long_ time when they were old and gray. He had a lot of hopes on making this relationship work, however there were times where he got so worried that one day, Marco was just not going to want to see him anymore. He was scared that he would want to take him out of his life.

No, he needed to stop thinking about that. Their relationship was going so well, much better than he had ever expected it being. And he had so much faith in it that he was going to keep himself from thinking that way.

Connie and Sasha were found sleeping together on the couch when Jean got home, with an empty bag of chips on the arm and controllers resting on both of their laps. Seeing that the video game they were playing was paused he grinned as he went and grabbed the remote. He set it to the cable channels so that all of a sudden Spongebob’s obnoxious laughter suddenly filled the room since they had it on Nicktoons. He couldn’t hold back his laughter when seeing the two of them suddenly jump up out of their skins and bump heads with a loud _thonk_!

“What the hell?!” Connie groaned and sat back again as he rubbed his forehead. Sasha was giving Jean a dirty look.

“I couldn’t resist!” he grinned. “You two looked so peaceful. But uh… Connie, you’re drooling a little bit.”

“Am I?” He quickly wiped his mouth. “Gross.”

Sasha rubbed her eyes and turned the TV down. “That was a little rude though.”

“Well, it could’ve been worse,” Jean chuckled. “I could’ve walked in on you two doing a little something-something in the bedroom.”

“As if,” Connie scoffed and got up from the couch. “Sasha, want more snacks?”

“Duh.” She hurried to join him in the kitchen.

Jean knew that Connie was asexual, but he still occasionally teased him just to see that response. “Great, now I get the TV.”

“Nooo!” Sasha whined. “We were supposed to continue our play through of Dead Space! Please?”

“Hmm…” Jean pondered but still flipped through the channels. “Nah.”

“You suck.” While still holding a bag of chips, Connie opened it more so that Sasha could take some. “What are you even going to watch anyways? Something stupid?”

“Probably.” He flipped through and found MTV. “Oh hey, Jersey Shore reruns!”

“Oh _god_ no!” Connie through a pillow at Jean. “Turn it off.”

“Come on Connie!” he continued watching the show. “Why did they have to pick Seaside Heights to film this show, though? Why so close to where we lived? They could’ve gone with Ocean City or something, it’s so much nicer further south.”

“Because they wanted to piss us off probably,” he shrugged and the two of them sat on the couch again. “I haven’t seen hair that big since my mom’s yearbook.”

“Yeah, but apparently it’s the signature look.” Jean crossed his legs. “The Situation has a nice body though.”

“You would say that.”

He gave him a smug look while nudging at his shoulder. As he watched the television until the five minute commercial break, he remembered that job Hitch offered with his uncle. He later learned that this uncle’s name was Nile, and he seemed a little uptight. But that was not going to stop him from considering this job offer. He was still trying to decide whether he should go or not, but he figured he’d decide that he was going to stay here. Well he moved down to Florida for a reason, but maybe going back up north might be a good idea.

_But you’re going to leave Marco if you go up north again._

“Hey Connie?” Jean figured that he should at least tell him and Sasha. They were really close, and Connie knew that he had been struggling with finding a steady place in his career to keep him level-headed.

“What’s up?”

How was he supposed to tell him that he was considering going back up north? “Remember that girl Hitch? She called me again a couple weeks ago.”

“Really?” he then grinned. “What’d she say?”

“Nothing too major, I suppose,” he said. “But… she gave me a job offer.”

Sasha muted the TV at hearing that. “She what? A job?”

“Yeah, it’s for her uncle’s company. He needs a new advertising team, and she recommended me to him. I sent him my portfolio, and he is interested in offering me this job.”

Connie sighed. “Does that mean if you take this, you’re going to move back up north?”

Jean nodded. “It’s only for three months though, so I might just come back.”

“No matter what happens, I’m staying down here,” he muttered. “You know that, right?”

“Of course,” he insisted. “I’m not asking you to leave. I don’t even think I’m going to take this job.”

“Why not?” Sasha asked. “It’s a really big opportunity for you. Is it because of Marco?”

A slow nod. “I want to stay down here with him, so that I know that he is recovering well. And he really is, but you know. He’s my boyfriend, and I want to just stay here.”

All Sasha could do was then nod. She figured that Jean was going to make the choice that was best for him right now, and staying with Marco could be that right choice. “As long as you know what you want to do, then you should not have to worry about it.”

Jean shrugged and looked back at the television screen as the volume went back up for it. “Yeah, but I’m still going to wait on telling Nile what I want to do.”

“Understandable.”

There the two of them go cuddling again. But Jean just stayed seated and watched Snooki get punched in the face. God, this episode was so fucking old. That whole act was getting old. Oh well. At least he lived here and didn’t have to deal with that second-hand embarrassment.

However he was choosing from staying here in Florida after leaving New Jersey to go back up north to work in New York City. Not much of a smooth transitioning.

\--

 _It was pouring by the time_ Marco pulled into the driveway. He stared at the address on the mailbox and then the one on the tiny piece of paper on his steering wheel: _608 Trost Blvd._ Perfect. They were both identical.

“I guess this is the place,” he said before stepping outside. He’d forgotten his umbrella and was already wet. He hurried over to the porch, but even then he was not safe from the immense power of this rainstorm. He tried to think for a minute. “Well… I did plan this… I think.” He stared at the note again before he then knocked on the door.

Meanwhile, inside the house Jean was finishing up eating a sandwich. He heard the knock at the door, but he was surprised since he did not expect any company. And Connie and Sasha were out playing Dead Space with Eren and Armin.

“Just a second!” he called out before putting the plate in the sink. He hurried to answer the door, he was genuinely surprised to see Marco standing there, dripping wet from head to toe. What was he doing here? He had no idea he would stop by. “…Hello.” What the hell else was he supposed to say? If he acted too friendly, it would pass off as creepy. If he stated his name in confusion because he was _seriously confused,_ then he would be questioned on how he knew his name and then they would get into an argument. So he figured that a simple “hello” would suffice.

“Hi,” Marco smiled. “You must be Jean Kirschtein.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” he said, still confused.

“This morning I saw you on this DVD.” That made a lot more sense on how he knew who he was. “And you said on there yourself that you were my boyfriend.”

Jean blushed. “Oh yeah, that’s right.” He smiled and then held out his hand. Like he expected, the brunette shook it.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Jean,” he then said.

“That’s very good to hear today,” was all that Jean could answer back with. “Just a quick question, though. How did you know that I lived here?”

Marco fished through his pocket and then found that little piece of paper again. It was soggy from being wet, but the words were still easy to make out. “This. I uh…” He couldn’t tell him that he kept a journal to help him with his memories as well, that would be embarrassing. “Sasha told me that this was where you live.”

“You talked to Sasha?”

A nod. He actually hadn’t seen Sasha at all today. He just found this address in his journal under the date July 22rd 2014\. That was apparently yesterday, but he was still trying to wrap his head around it. When he came to his senses again he crossed his arms. “Your video said that you were an artist?”

“Yeah, I’m a painter,” Jean answered. “But I do stuff on the computer too, like with Photoshop.”

“I see.” Marco pondered a thought a little bit. “Actually, I’m here because I am asking about a commission.”

He cocked his head to the side. There was nothing said recently about a commission, just that he did them for people. But Marco was never a client for a commission.

“Um, sure.” He stepped back to let Marco have more room to come in. His clothes were sticking to his soaked body, and Jean tried to keep his face at a normal skin tone. Not working all that much, and he could tell since his cheeks were burning already. “What about a commission?”

“How much do you normally price your commissions?” he asked.

He hesitated. “Usually about… twenty-five is my cheapest offer. People don’t normally pay me all that much for a commission.”

Marco dipped his head in a nod, lost in thought once more. He wasn’t sure about this, but it did say in his journal that he should do this when seeing him today. “How much would you pay for a full portrait?”

“Painted, you mean?”

Of course Marco agreed.

He had to think yet again. He’d better write these fucking prices down sometime, this was getting very annoying and was unprofessional. “I’d say the cheapest offer was fifty-three.”

“Why the extra three dollars?” That was a little confusing.

“It was a painting of a four year old, and the kid wanted to give me money too,” he answered. “Like I said, people don’t pay me that much for commissions.”

“That really sucks,” Marco sighed. “Hmm… Well I want a full portrait. And I’ll pay about… how does ninety sound?”

Ninety dollars for a portrait, more like Jean knew that he made the right choice to start dating this man. First Reiner paying him three hundred dollars—which he used to pay off most of his student loans—and now his boyfriend, willing to pay ninety dollars for a portrait upon first meeting.

“Ninety sounds—” Jean had to stop to clear his throat because his voice cracked. “Ninety sounds perfect.”

“Great,” he smiled. “Where should I pose?”

“Oh.” Jean realized that he had never been in the beach house before. “Well, my studio is over there in the sun room.” He led him over, almost a little nervous about him gaining full access to all his artwork, from commissions to little side projects, and even the works that he had been blocked on for weeks that were just sitting there waiting to be touched again. But as soon as he felt that worry, it quickly dissipated as he watched the brunette’s eyes light up upon seeing all of this art in the room. And the sound of the rain pattering against several windows in the room added a more sated mood to the situation.

Marco still kept looking at his work, and he smiled when seeing the sketchbook that was opened on a page of rough sketches for a client that lived down the street. “Your art is really good.”

“Thank you,” he smiled. “It’s not often that you got to see it. I mean, there was that one time where I drew Reiner making bread. And I’m sure you’ve seen the painting of the bakery.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I’ve seen it. It’s hanging up on the wall in there. It looks great.”

“I’m glad you think so, thank you,” he said. “That’s really great to hear.” He looked around the room. “Well, you could just stand right by the windows. Or do you want any furniture or something to help make you feel more comfortable while posing? I’ll gladly provide for you, I mean.”

Marco rubbed his stubbly chin, sighing softly. This was a lot harder than he thought it would be. Well, it was kind of embarrassing to ask for a commission from a man that was supposedly his boyfriend of almost three months according to this morning. But it was written in a note on top of his journal:

_Marco:_

_This is a note to remind you that you should go to this address after work today:_

_608 Trost Blvd. Miami_

_Ask Jean Kirschtein to do a commission: Painting._

_Nude ;)_

He did not understand the significance of having a winky face at the end of his letter, but whatever. He was here now and he was going to do this. He was going to ask Jean to do a nude painting of him when they just met. Well, he figured that maybe they didn’t _just_ meet, since there was a whole video this morning saying that they had known each other for a while. But this was his first time meeting him that he could recall—remember. He didn’t even have the option to go back to a thought later, it was just _Boom! There is your life, sorry you can’t remember anything passed this point!_

“Marco?”

He didn’t realize how quiet he had been until just now. He cleared his throat and blushed a bit. “Oh yeah. Well, here’s the thing. I might… add an extra fifteen dollars to the price.”

“Hah?” Jean tilted his head. “Why? Ninety was fine, why a hundred five?”

“Well… it’s because of the nature of the painting,” he said, trying to choose his words to make it not sound weird. Well, Jean was an artist, he must have gotten strange questions like this all the time. But the chances of him even accepting to do this request are slim, he supposed. “You see, I want to commission you to do a nude painting.” Better to say it flat-out and bluntly than having the words stuck in his throat for hours on end.

And of course the request _plus_ the way that he said it so sure and so seriously made Jean blush as red as the out-of-season beanie on top of his head. He cleared his throat and looked down. “A-a nude?” he stammered. Normally he wouldn’t be so nervous about this, but this was _Marco_ that was requesting this. Marco, his _boyfriend_. He wanted him to paint a _nude_ of him? “I mean, I could paint you a nude for free!” Oh wow, that sounded weird. Way to fucking go, Jean please-don’t-make-things-harder- than-they-already-are Kirschtein.

“But I want to commission you!” Marco cleared his throat.

“D’you… do you want to do this in a more private setting though?” he then asked. “Like, there are a lot of windows in here and everything. There’s only one in my bedroom, and it’s covered by the blinds right now.”

Marco shook his head. “I’m fine with doing it in here. It’s okay.”

He needed time to process. He was going to paint a nude portrait of his boyfriend. A nude. Portrait. He would get to see all of him, every part of him that made him look so beautiful and mind-blowingly sexy even when he had clothes on. This was the chance of a lifetime in this relationship, and he couldn’t be any happier to have the honor and privilege of doing this type of project for Marco.

Finally Jean found his voice, albeit very cracked and quite soft. “I have the futon over there. You can pose on that, if that’s more comfortable for you.” He pointed towards the end of the room where the corner was surrounded by large windows.

“Great.” Marco smiled as he moved his hands down to the hem of his shirt. “Wait. Have you done nude paintings before?”

“Oh yeah,” he said. He was trying to go between “oh yeah” while not sounding too cocky and “oh yeah” without sounding too perverse. He was not sure if that worked, but he continued. “Yeah, I learned how to in Life Drawing. But the last nude commission I’ve done was back in Jersey with this guy that wanted an erotic picture of his wife.”

He pursed his lips and nodded. “Interesting.”

“They’re divorced now,” Jean said bluntly.

“And why is that?”

He looked down and sighed, since the memory that was coming back to him was quite amusing. “Because three weeks later that same guy came with another man and told me to do one of him.”

Impulsive laughter was the response to that. “That’s awkward.” He took a deep breath. “Alright. I’d better get undressed, I suppose.” After seeing Jean nod he went and peeled off his drenched shirt.

Jean needed another minute after suddenly having his jaw dropping from realizing that his _shirt._ His _shirt_ was off. He could see his bare chest, the plethora of freckles along his torso. The mix of those tiny marks along with the variety of flowers that were shown on his arm from his shoulder down to just above his elbow. He could point out the forget-me-nots, Marco’s favorites. And he saw a sunflower in the mix as well as a rather nice arrangement of wildflowers added in next to the hydrangeas. They fit very well, just resting there along his arm, teeming with color and full of life.

He continued to look at his torso. The toned, dark skin reminded him that Marco did say he liked to keep himself in shape when he was in college. And then of course his eyes traveled down to the dark hairs under his navel that formed a _rather nice_ happy trail. Even better. He remembered just then that he had those silver surface piercings on his hips. He could see all four of them right now.

Jean gasped for air when he realized that he had been holding his breath for a couple moments. What should he say? Marco was staring at him just was he was pulling down his shorts. It didn’t take that long for him to take them off after his shoes were kicked off to the other side of the studio.

“Those shoes don’t even fit me right anyways,” he heard Marco groan while he sat on the futon and pulled the damp socks off his feet. “I need to get new ones.”

“Y-yeah,” he croaked. Like a fucking frog. Nice one. “Because wearing worn out shoes all the time’s no good.”

He nodded, and his fingers moved to the waistband of his boxers. So close. That was the only thing that was separating Jean from seeing the entirety of Marco’s body. But he was totally fine with that, if that meant that he wouldn’t have the risk of most likely creaming his pants just from the sight of a _pierced_ dick underneath those briefs. But before he could be certain of that— _there_ goes the boxers. Marco had slowly pulled them down and rested them on top of his shorts.

Immediately his gaze drops down to Marco’s dick. Bad idea, _such_ a bad idea, but he was actually curious because he had never even seen a pierced dick before. And even more of a big surprise was seeing that this man was _uncut._ He was uncut, Jean thought that he was imagining that. And pierced there proudly a little off-center save for the foreskin was the little barbell of Marco’s Prince Albert. The crown jewel.

Jean quickly looked up when hearing Marco clear his throat. His face was red and he tried to cover it. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to stare, I— I-I just have never seen a pierced dick before!”

Marco turned a bit, and _wow_ there was that tattoo on his ass that he was talking about. That green unicorn head that looked more like an emblem. It wasn’t exactly on his butt, like he had said that it wasn’t, but it was up along his hip and down the left cheek. He wasn’t kidding. It was exactly where he described that it was. He didn’t hear the words that came out of his mouth then. Holy shit, Jean was being _really_ unprofessional.

He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“I was asking if this was the first time you ever saw me naked.”

Jean nodded quickly. “Y-yeah. This is the first time.”

He wasn’t sure what kind of response he was expecting, but he sure as hell did not expect it to be a laugh, because that was what Marco did. He laughed and sat on the futon, but the difference between Marco sitting down and laughing any other time and now was that this time Marco was _naked_. Butt. Naked. In his studio on his futon where he often took naps whenever he got tired from working on his commissions. And now he saw his boyfriend resting on it and waiting for the commission to start.

Marco then smiled. “Hey, what pose do you think I should be in for this?”

He couldn’t think for a minute. Jean blinked. “What did you have in mind?”

“Hmm…” The brunette’s eyes lit up. “I was thinking along the lines of the pose in Titanic. With me lying on my back with my hand to my face while my junk is all out.”

“ _Very_ romantic.” Jean laughed as he blushed. “In all seriousness, I think you should just be relaxed on the futon. Maybe on your side, so that the tattoos can be in it too. Be in a position that shows that you are calm, relaxed, and confident.”

“Well I am feeling pretty confident,” Marco admitted. He turned on his right side and propped his head up on his elbow. The tattooed arm rested so that his hand was on his opposite shoulder, and his left leg crossed over his right. The tattoos could be seen with this pose. “How’s this?”

“Perfect,” he said as he set up his canvas and got his paints out. “Just tilt your head towards me and relax your left arm.”

When Marco did so he took a deep breath. He smiled at the serious expression that Jean was wearing while marking faint line art on the canvas.

“You can smile if you want to,” Jean insisted, blowing some hair out of his face. “Just don’t laugh too much. Stay still.”

“Alright,” he nodded. “I can handle that. How long is this going to take?”

“It all depends.”

Jean kept glancing from Marco’s body to the canvas, making any necessary changes, adding specific details, like the piercings and the taut lines in his muscles. His tattoos were probably the hardest to get a decent, basic sketch for because the ones on his arm were so intricate. But he figured that he could definitely pull this off. Just with some patience with those flowers.

“Can I say Titanic quotes during this?” Marco then asked.

“No,” he chuckled. “You can’t, that’d make it really fucking weird.”

“‘Draw me like one of your French girls,’ Jean.” He wore a cheeky grin when he spoke.

“S-stop that!” he stammered and smiled. “No moving.”

“Okay, okay,” Marco grinned, taking a deep breath and staying still. “Wouldn’t you have music playing right now? I don’t know, just asking.”

“The rain helps me concentrate,” Jean said. “As long as it doesn’t start thundering, I’ll be fine.”

“Why, you scared?” he teased.

He pouted. “Maybe a little.” He forced himself to admit it.

“Aww, poor baby.”

“Shut up,” he groaned. “Stay still.”

“Sorry,” Marco smiled. “Can’t help it. You’re too easy to get flustered.”

“And you are very observant.” He gave Marco a smug look and grabbed one of his brushes. “Alright, I’m gonna get started now.”

Hearing no response he figured that he was just staying still. Jean still looked from his body to the canvas to make sure that he was using the right shades, having the right texture, and making sure that he was following the specific lighting of the scenery. The background was very easy to do, since it was just the futon and the rain-soaked windows, but after making smooth strokes along Marco’s body on the canvas he had to make sure that every detail was accurate enough for a one-hundred-five dollar commission. He swore that people who knew him were way too generous with their offers, even though this was according to Marco their very first time meeting.

He admired his facial expression as he was just watching Jean work on the painting. He was focused and calm, every muscle in his face relaxing while his eyes were half-lidded with what Jean couldn’t tell was boredom or exhaustion. He couldn’t stop staring at his marvelous body, just the way that he was so relaxed and had absolutely no worry or tension in his features. Just the fact that he had the honor of just seeing him so confident made chills run down his spine. It was at this moment that he realized somewhere deep down, Marco trusted him. He trusted him enough to let him see his body.

And Jean sure as hell was not going to betray that trust.

The tattoos and freckles on Marco took the longest to paint. The hardest also included his body hair since he needed such a fine brush to make it look more realistic and less smudgy and mediocre.

“My body is so stiff now,” Marco groaned, and that was the first time he had spoken in an hour and a half.

“Sorry,” he chided. “I’m almost done. I’m surprised that you didn’t fall asleep.”

“Nah, I kept myself entertained by watching that oh, so _serious_ expression on your face while you’re painting,” he grinned. “You look so focused.”

“Well, I hope so,” Jean smiled. “And…” He paused so that he could sign it at the bottom right-hand corner of the canvas. “Done. You can relax.”

He heard an exaggerated sigh while Marco laid back to relax, trying to relieve his stiff right arm. “Wow, I thought that it was going to stay stuck like this.”

“You did pretty well for your first time modeling,” Jean assured him. “Wanna see it?”

He saw the eager nod as he was carefully shifting the canvas without smudging. “Let me see, Jean.”

With that Jean turned the painting around. He saw Marco sit up, amazed when looking at the picture. It was so detailed, and the coloring was so rich. He didn’t know what he had originally expected, but this was incredible.

“It looks… amazing,” he gasped and kept his eyes on his features. “Do I really look like that?”

Jean nodded. “I may have added a bit more unnecessary details to the tattoos, though. Sorry.”

“No, don’t be.” Marco smiled and stood up. “I love it.”

“I’m glad.” Jean then watched him kneel down by his shorts and pull his wallet out of his pocket. In there was a checkbook. “Wow, you’re paying me already?”

He looked up. “I’m surprised that you weren’t making comments about my ass, to be honest,” he said.

Jean blushed at that. “W-well, it’s a very nice ass—b-but I had been focused on the—I wasn’t—”

More laughter. Marco found his stammering very amusing. “You’re cute.”

 _Cute._ Marco said that he was cute. Was today even real? Jean was blushing so much that he figured he could sizzle bacon right on top of his cheeks.

Marco cleared his throat so that he could continue talking. “I’m most likely not going to remember that this happened, right? So, I want to make sure that you get paid now, instead of having to deal with confusion on my part later.”

He had a point. Jean exhaled while leaning back in his seat. “You’re right.”

The brunette wrote down the price on a previously blank check, and when he was done he tore it out from the book and handed it to Jean. “Here you go. One hundred and five for the commission.”

He took the check slowly. “Thank you, Marco.”

“No problem.” He then looked at his clothes on the floor and bit his lip. “Oh… I think they’re still wet.”

“Let me get a robe for you,” Jean offered. “Your clothes can go in the dryer, and I’ll give them to you when they’re done.”

“This will inquire that I must stay for dinner.” Marco winked at him and grinned.

He sputtered. “Well, of course you could. I just—just let me get the fucking robe real quick.”

The noise that came from Marco next sounded more like a small giggle, but Jean couldn’t tell because he grabbed his clothes and went downstairs to put them in the dryer. He got his bathrobe before heading back up, handing it to Marco while his cheeks were still flushed a bright red.

“You’re too much,” he grinned as he put the robe on and tied it securely around his waist. “What time is it?”

“’S quarter to seven,” Jean said after looking at the clock.

“ _Wow_ I was here for a while,” he gasped and went out of the studio. He looked around. “It’s pretty spacious.”

“A little bit.” He scratched the back of his head. “We don’t have much to eat here except hot pockets.”

“Those are fine,” Marco smiled as he went in the kitchen. “As long as you don’t mind that I wanna make something.”

“You do?” he tilted his head. “Like what?”

He looked at the different cabinets. “Do you have brownie mix or something?”

“Yeah. You wanna make them?” He already went to take them out of the cabinet that they were in just as he saw him nod. “It’s about time we actually used them.”

“Cool.” Marco smiled while he took the box from him, and Jean showed him where all the cooking utensils and extra ingredients were. Meanwhile he made the hot pockets.

“Your clothes should be dry by the time the brownies are done,” Jean insisted while waiting for their “dinner” to be ready.

Marco smiled as he was mixing the batter. “Okay. Is it alright that I once I’m done I’ll decorate them all nice too?”

“Of course,” he smiled. “I’ve been waiting so long to try your baked goods.”

“You mean you haven’t tried them yet?” He seemed surprised.

Jean shook his head. “Unless if you made blueberry muffins at the beginning of June, then nope. I haven’t tried any.”

“You’re missing out then.” Marco was almost done with the batter but continued mixing for good measure. “You’re gonna have to show me where you keep your frosting, though.”

“I’ll get that out for you right now.” He went in the fridge and got it for them. Just as he did the hot pockets were ready. “Come and have yours when you’re ready.”

“Okay, I’m almost done.” Marco put the brownie mix in the pan and then in the oven, setting the timer before coming over to the table.

As he watched him Jean wrapped his arms around him from behind, even though he was a lot taller. He heard his breath get caught in his throat, so he looked up. “Is it okay that I do this?”

“Yeah. Just didn’t expect it.” He smiled and glanced down as he picked the hot pocket up and took a bite. “Do you often get cuddly?”

“Sometimes. But most of the time it’s you.” Jean smirked and reached up to kiss his cheek, getting his neck instead but grinning when the other squirmed.

“Jean, that tickles,” he laughed and tried getting out of his hold. “Stop.”

“Oh fine,” Jean pouted and grabbed the other hot pocket while they both sat down.

While the two of them ate they kept looking over at each other, watching each other eat and smiling whenever it seemed that they were chewing their food in a rather amusing way. It didn’t even take long for them to be finished, but they just kept talking afterwards. Marco was mostly curious about Jean, as he was every time they spent the day together. And he was always eager to ask questions and wanted to know more about his life before he had met him.

But not once had he ever told him about the job offer in New York City. He could never bring himself to, especially since he didn’t even plan on taking that job opportunity now that he had Marco here to support. Besides, it was not that bad here, getting paid for these commissions even though it most of the time wasn’t enough. He’d better get a second job to support his part of the bills.

Marco looked up when the timer went off. “Oh, the brownies are done!”

“Which means that your clothes should be dry too,” Jean said with a smile. “I’ll go get them.” He got up and went in the laundry room just as Marco was taking the brownies out of the oven. The clothes were dry, so he brought them out. “Hey, you can get changed in the bathroom.”

A nod. “I could, but how about I’ll just get changed out here?” Marco grinned and undid the robe. “I mean, you did stare at my naked body for almost three hours already.”

“I-I know,” he sputtered, “but wouldn’t you like to go in a private room to do it?”

He barely thought about it. “Nah. I’ll just do it out here.”

Jean loved how Marco was so free with his body around him today, but if he saw that pierced cock again there was a guarantee that he was going to get a stiff one. So he just handed him his clothes and went in the studio. “Gotta clean up real quick in here!”

All he heard was a confused “Okay” before he got his paints back in their place. The brushes were set to get cleaned, and he probably should have scrubbed the dried paint off of his arms before he ate that hot pocket. But since he had already finished that meal he went and took care of cleaning his arms in the bathroom while that was still on his mind.

He looked up again when hearing that sweet singing coming from the kitchen. Marco was probably working on decorating their brownies, and that familiar tune was being heard throughout the house.

_“I’ll follow you into the park,_

_Through the jungle, through the dark,_

_Girl I never loved one like you.”_

_Does he sing like this when he works?_ Jean only heard him do it once, and it wasn’t a very pleasant visit since that was when Marco’s parents found out about him visiting him anyways during his lunch breaks even after they told him not to.

And Marco was still singing, knowing the lyrics by heart so well that Jean could’ve sworn that the music had to be playing. The icing was put on each brownie and now he was stacking them up in layers, almost like he was trying to construct a giant cake from them. This goober was having a good ‘ol time doing what he did best.

After a while Jean couldn’t help but tag along with the song, and he stood on the other side of the counter across from Marco. “ _Jade?_ ”

For a minute there Marco was startled, and he looked up before smiling, realizing that he was trying to sing along. “ _Alexander._ ”

Jean smirked. “ _Do you remember that day you fell outta my window?”_ This was kind of fun, now that he knew the words after weeks of hearing the song.

“ _I sure do—you came jumping right out after me.”_

He leaned closer. “ _Well, you fell on the concrete, nearly broke your ass, and you were bleeding all over the place, and I rushed you out to the hospital, you remember that?_ ”

“ _Yes I do,_ ” Marco nodded as he sang along.

“You know, for being your happy song, this part seems kinda morbid,” Jean said.

The brunette laughed and covered his mouth. “Jean! That’s not the point of the story!”

“I know, I know,” he grinned. “ _There’s something I never told you about that night._ ”

Marco batted his eyelids, his long lashes letting their own, tiny breeze flow while he smiled. _“What didn’t you tell me?_ ” He wore a cheeky grin.

Jean moved closer. “ _Well, while you were sitting in the back seat smoking a cigarette you thought was gonna be your last”—_ Jean was now so close to Marco that he could hear his excited pants in between this verse—“ _I was falling deep, deeply in love with you…”_ Marco craned his neck down a bit to get a closer look at the blonde, who was smiling up at him while he grabbed one of the brownies. _“…and I never told you ‘til just now._ ”

“You sneak!” Marco gasped just as Jean took a bite from the brownie. “You weren’t supposed to have them yet!”

“But they were ready,” Jean whined in between mouthfuls. It took a moment for him to register that _wow,_ this brownie was _delicious._ It was one of the best he ever tasted. “This is _really_ good,” he hummed. “Like… shit.”

“I never thought that shit tasted good, Jean.” Marco winked as he grabbed one from the pile as well.

“Neither did I.” He smiled and they both each grabbed another. “What’s your secret to these? Seriously.”

“No secret,” Marco smiled.

“Oh, don’t give me that ‘little bit of love’ bullshit. You definitely did something with them that was not in the instructions on the box.”

“I’m serious, I did nothing else to them!” he smiled. “Maybe it’s just the fact that you probably put one less egg in with the batter in previous times.”

“I _knew_ it!” Jean pointed an accusatory finger. “I knew that you did something different with them!”

“Not really, I was just following what the box says,” Marco laughed.

“Eh, whatever.” The two of them still looked at each other and they shared a smile. “Hey… did you know that the first time we talked, we ended up shoving blueberry muffins in our faces competing over a pack of cigarettes?”

He tilted his head, wheezing while letting out a laugh. “That’s just weird. Did we really?”

“Yep,” he grinned. “You won.”

“I tend to be a fast eater at times,” Marco admitted. “Well hey, a pack of cigarettes for me.”

“Actually… no.” Jean put what remained of his brownie down. “You turned me away the next day because you were confused and irritated. You didn’t know who I was. This was before the whole video thing, and I had no idea what to do.”

He stiffened and lowered his head. Because of the state he was in he didn’t acknowledge that the two of them even talked. It was a terrible thing to realize. If they had such a good time, then why was he just turned away like that? So quickly…

Marco knew why.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jean insisted. “That was when we first started out.”

“Yeah, but…” He sighed and grabbed a brownie again, the last one. “I feel bad. You do so much, and then I could do that at any time.”

“Look.” As Jean looked up he rested his hand on his shoulder. “Even if that happened I’m still here, right? Besides, I think it’s safe to say that we’re okay if you let me do a portrait like that of you.”

He got a small smile and a nod out of him. “Yeah…”

Jean hoped that he was okay. There were a couple of days where he was a little off, but he was not sure what he could do for him, except offer some kind of humor to make his train of thought move away from those things and on over to something brighter.

Like the way that Marco currently had some brownie crumbs on his lips after he finished eating it. That made Jean laugh, which caused the other to tilt his head.

“What’s up?”

“You got brownie on your lip still,” he sat, pointing to his own lips to show him that was where he was talking about. “Right there.”

“Whoops.” Marco grinned. That sweet, carefree smile returned.

Maybe Jean should talk to Erwin and Levi about this the next time he saw them. They would know what to do whenever he got like how he was before, after all.

Marco still didn’t get those crumbs off his mouth, though.

“Jeez, let me do it,” he smiled and grabbed a napkin. He moved closer, and the two of them were silent while Jean slowly wiped his mouth off for him. They looked at each other, even after Jean threw that napkin out. There was a certain chemistry between the two of them that Marco could sense, and it only got stronger when he held the blonde by his sides and pulled him closer.

Jean blushed of course, and Marco just smiled as he slowly stroked his cheek and leaned down. While they were pressed against their counter they exchanged a gentle kiss. Every day it seemed like a first kiss to Jean, and for Marco it really was. They always started off sweet, and now that there was a closer bond between them it became more urgent quicker than any other time.

There Jean was gripping the brunette’s shirt, holding onto it for some kind of leverage for it was getting harder to breathe in the thick atmosphere. It was a rich, peaceful feeling, and both he and Marco shared that while itching hands were grasping for something that they could take a good hold of.

But the only reason why they stopped was because they were startled by the sound of the door unlocking and opening not too far away from where they were. Jean quickly looked over, only to see Connie standing there, grinning and holding two thumbs up at them.

“Connie!” Jean groaned and shooed him away. “Give us a minute.”

“Oh, I’ll just be in the living room. _Not_ listening to you two.” As Connie went into the other room he was grinning and cracking jokes while starting up the Xbox 360.

Marco looked over at the door. “I probably should get going. I have work in the morning.”

“No problem,” Jean insisted. “So… tomorrow? I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Well, I’d like to think so,” he grinned. “And by the way, you can keep that painting in your studio for now. I’ll know when to come pick it up.”

The blonde croaked a bit on his words again. “O-oh yeah, sure. I’ll keep it here.”

“Don’t go off and start selling copies.”

“I-I won’t,” he stammered as the brunette slowly kissed him. “I won’t sell it. It’s safe here.”

“Good,” Marco smiled. He walked back to the door. “I had a really good time here.”

“Me too,” he agreed, blushing with every breath he uttered out in spite of himself.

“See you tomorrow then.” He then walked out after realizing that it had stopped raining hours ago, and he did not need anything to shelter him from any unwanted droplets.

After he left Jean let out such a deep sigh. He didn’t know why he did, but it was like he was holding a breath that he had held in for hours. It was like trying to break the silence even though Connie was in the other room playing videos games with Sasha, Eren, and Mikasa over the headset. It was like he had some kind of revelation, and that had been trapped so deep inside that finally it was let out in the deepest, elated sighs.

So much had happened today. There was so much that Jean realized by just this one day of being with him. Marco trusted him enough to let him see his body while he painted him for hours on end, and the night did not end in any fiery passion. He trusted him enough where he could share certain thoughts with him, even though there were moments where Jean could not answer his deeper questions. He was willing to spend those nights after work here at the beach house, and although he still was not even sure why or how that was possible, but he was so happy either way. Because wow… _Wow._ Was this really happening?

Jean was in love. He was in love with this feeling and in love with this realization, and he was in love with the man that gave him those things. It was then that he knew. He knew that he made the right choice at this moment about that distant job offer that he didn’t even remember when he was supposed to make a decision for. He was not going to leave for New York City and leave that behind him. He was going to stay here in Miami, where his friends were and where his sweet, trusting boyfriend will be waiting for him every day after he woke up.

He was going to stay.


	9. All Of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every time they touched, Jean got this feeling. Every time they kissed, he swore he could fly. He could feel their hearts beat so fast. He wanted this to last. He needed Marco by his side and couldn't let him go.

_“Give me all of you  
_ _Cards on the table, we’re both showing hearts  
_ _Risking it all though it’s hard.”_

-       _All of Me,_ John Legend

* * *

 

 _A picture is worth a thousand_ words. It becomes a piece of the past. The minute that one is taken, history has been made. Whether it’d be a baby taking their first steps, a picture of yourself sitting in the back of your parent’s car, or a man’s last birthday as he wheezily blows out his final candle right at the click, it’s when time stands still. Memories have been made and are going to be shared for years to come.

And after the day he came over for that painting, Marco started taking lots of pictures whenever he was with Jean. He had the Polaroid camera that Levi used to take pictures of the cakes Marco had made for Ymir every day since he’d recovered from his accident. That silly old camera that Levi and Erwin bought when they first moved to Arkansas before adopting Marco and Ymir. They both told him that it was a great way to easily keep memories and look back at them without having to get pictures developed or printed at a general store. It was quick and in the moment, and even if it came out bad, it was still there almost instantaneously in the palm of their hand.

Having that camera on him during dates was an excellent idea. Every day when he brought was a day that he could get Jean to smile such a bright smile, with his eyes sometimes partially closed because he wasn’t prepared or the flash was really obnoxious. It was a day that Marco could goofily take “selfies” while sometimes he couldn’t even get his whole face because he was holding it wrong at times. It was a couple of moments of their time where they could be free to show that they were happy, even if it was for a second just for that picture. It was sticking tongues out and getting “bunny ears” behind their heads, as well as having their best friends trying to get in the way of their shot and then all of them laughing about it afterwards.

Every time a picture was quickly printed out after being taken, they would look at it and deem it worthy with the words “That’s a keeper!” If one didn’t come out right and one of them didn’t like it, they’d try to get the other to get rid of it. But Marco never did. Even if it was a lousy picture, it was a memory. Still something that he could salvage and hold that he could look at and say “Hey, I think I can recall when this happened.” He figured it would help him, since he had already kept a journal. And it would be a good thing to also have more visual references, he decided.

His favorite kind of pictures though were the ones where the two of them would exchange kisses. They’d struggle to find a good pose and then think that they don’t have any room for the picture. Sometimes they would bump noses in an attempt to hastily kiss, which caused them to break off into soft giggles. Others they would hit each other’s foreheads, and that was not entirely comfortable so they would give each other meaningless glares and grumpy pouts that would transition rather quickly to even more uncontained giggles. His hand would sometimes slip as he’d make the click and end up getting a better shot of their neck than their blushing faces. They made a game out of it in this way, to see if Marco could actually get a good shot for a picture.

But each kiss made was a memorable one. Especially when they had the camera, since then they could both look back on that particular kiss and many more following that just by staring at a grainy photograph. Most kisses during the picture taking were chaste and sweet. Others were had a bit more force to them either from rushing or just really being in the heat of the moment. And each time they’d see one shortly get developed and printed out right from that Polaroid camera, they would smile and kiss again, as if one was not enough.

For Marco, just one kiss from those perfect lips and earning such a sweet smile while fingers gently played with his hair, even though he had to reach for them in order to do so, was never enough.

At the end of the day he kept them all and had them in his journal as he vigorously wrote down all the exciting things that happened that day. Easy, gentle reminders so that tomorrow and the many days after he could know what happened and the thought of doing those things would never leave him. He always looked back on it to recall different events. Like when he’d seen in an entry dated on July 23rd that he was at Jean’s house and did a nude portrait. He would have loved to actually remember that, but all he could do was imagine it each time he saw the words at the bottom:

_“Keep this man in your life for as long as you can. He cares more for you than you might think, and he will never take advantage of you.”_

He could tell by the small runs on the page that he must have been crying when writing this. It had to be from joy or relief, or just sweet happiness, judging by the ending of that entry. And seeing those words made him very sure that he should keep that in his mind and never lose that. At the end of the day he could see that everything that he was told by Jean was true. Every compliment that he had made to him, he really meant it. Every time their hands intertwined and their lips met and they shared a laugh under the setting sun was always sweeter than the first. And there will be many more times after.

\--  
 _Another date ended successfully. They had_ Marco’s car since when he took one look at Jean’s Harley he gave it a horrified expression before giving an interjection of “Oh _hell_ no!” Well, he did ride it once already, but Jean was not going to bring that up. This was fine, since Marco’s car was rather nice on the inside.

For the day they were at the beach, and they stayed there all day until it started to rain later on that night. That was when they hurried back to Marco’s house to call it a day and stay dry. Upon pulling into the driveway, however, they noticed that neither Erwin’s car nor Ymir’s was here. Marco did remember them saying that his dads were going to a casino, and Ymir had to be a Krista’s house. They knew at that point that they were by themselves here at the house.

“You wanna come inside?” Marco said after a minute of silence.

Jean nodded and smiled as they got out of the car. Once again he was standing in the middle of the rain shower, and after Marco got out they both raced to the door. Of course Marco won since he had the key and was in as much of a hurry as his companion was. Upon getting inside, they were hit by an unruly cold breeze from the central air.

Shivers went up and down Marco’s spine. “S-shit that’s cold!”

“Didn’t help that we just came outside from the rain,” Jean muttered as the brunette turned raised the temperature on the thermostat.

He walked over and ran his hand through the tufts of soaked blonde hair. “Do you want something to wear to keep warm, Jean?”

A quick nod followed by chattering teeth. “That’d be nice. I don’t do so well with the cold.”

“Surprising since you lived in New Jersey.” Marco winked and then hurried down the hall to get upstairs.

“It’s not _that_ cold up there!” Jean hurried after him. “We’re not that up north!”

“But it’s still cold!” he laughed and went down a hallway. “Lot colder than here!”

When Marco rushed into his bedroom Jean stood outside by the door. “My mom told me that it’s really hot up there now. Like nineties.”

“Nineties is hot for you?” he heard him chuckle. “Jean don’t be shy, come in!”

When Jean listened to him say that he was a little uncertain. He hadn’t been in his bedroom before and wasn’t sure what to expect. For all he knew he probably had some weird collection of porn right there on his dresser, judging that Sasha had the inside joke of him having a Dale Cooper impression—which he had seen him in action in some videos and he was pretty hot. While trying not to get sidetracked he gulped as he stepped inside.

Well, there wasn’t a collection or stack of porn on his dresser… It was in his closet. But the room itself was rather nice organized. Sure, there were some random clothes on the floor, but nothing out of the ordinary. There were a lot of pictures on his wall, and they were all taken with a Polaroid camera. Most of them were silly pictures with Sasha and Armin, and he did have a couple with even Reiner smiling, which was a rare sight for Jean.

“Yeah, I take a lot of pictures,” Marco smiled.

Jean nodded. “I know. We’ve taken a lot of pictures on dates.”

The freckled man sat down on his bed and then groaned. “Dammit, I knew I probably should have brought my Polaroid camera.”

“That’s okay,” he insisted. “The day’s not over yet. We could still take pictures.”

He nodded and then picked the camera up from his nightstand. “Yeah, but it’s not as fun.”

“Every picture counts,” he insisted and plopped down next to him, making Marco laugh when they both bounced a bit on the bed. He took the camera from his hands slowly and shifted back so that he could get a good shot. “Come on, show me those pearly whites of yours,” he grinned and saw that Marco took that initiative to smile. He took the picture and heard it noisily being developed and printed out right from the slot.

Marco took it and smiled. “Wow… I didn’t know I was starting to get scruffy.”

“It’s not that bad,” he said. “I like it.”

“Really?” He grinned and moved closer. “So I guess No-Shave November won’t be a problem for you. I can grow it long.”

“Fantastic,” Jean chuckled as he leaned forward to kiss his cheek. Marco took the camera from him then. “Hey!”

“My turn.” Marco quickly took the picture, and when it came out it showed Jean with wide eyes and trying to hide his face. He frowned. “That’s not a smile, Jean.”

“Sorry, Marco,” he smiled and moved his hands down. “There, try again.” He smiled and let his boyfriend take the picture this time. It came out rather nicely.

Marco held them both. “Perfect. I’m gonna keep both of these, okay?”

“But what about the one where I’m trying to hide my face?” Jean reached out for that one. “You don’t wanna look back on that!’

“Sure I do. Like you just said, every picture counts,” he smiled and then put them all down on the nightstand. “One more?”

Jean nodded. “Let’s make this one a kiss.”

This was followed by an eager nod and rushing to get close, resulting in the two of them bumping heads together. They recoiled and took a moment to soothe the sudden ache.

“You okay?” Jean groaned.

“Yeah, sorry,” he sighed and then stayed by his side. He held the camera out in front of him. “Ready?”

“I think so,” he murmured as he turned to look at him. “Just don’t drop the camera, okay?”

“I don’t think I will,” Marco said and turned to look at him as well.

They gave it another minute, since Marco’s free hand was running through Jean’s soft hair as they breathed in deeply and exhaled softly to let their nervousness escape from their bodies. They were as close as personal space would allow, and as Marco held the camera securely in his right hand he leaned forward first, kissing the blonde slowly. The sweetness that was returned was a bit surprising, and he had no objections to that. As they grew more comfortable and the kiss had a bit more fervor to it, he almost did drop the camera.

At the right moment he took the picture, but not once did they break the kiss while he placed the camera down beside them to let the picture develop. Jean’s hands grabbed on to Marco’s shirt as the kiss grew deeper, and they let their tongues eagerly meld together and swallowed each other’s gasps and sweet hums. When they breathlessly pulled away Marco’s hands ran along his arms as Jean looked up at the wall.

Jean tilted his head just as Marco kissed his cheek. “Hey, is that a lacrosse stick?” He noticed it hanging on the wall right above the window.

Marco pulled away and looked over at it as he nodded. “Yeah. I played in high school.”

“Cool,” he smiled and sat up. “What happened?”

He shrugged. “It was a lot of fun and all, but I really like baking more.”

He nodded along. “…You got injured, didn’t you?”

“How’d you guess?” he laughed. “It wasn’t that bad of an injury, but the couple weeks that I was off got me thinking. I thought back to all the times I visited Braun’s Pastries and how much I loved helping Reiner and his dad out. And they said I was really good at it. So, during my time off I decided that was what I wanted to do with my life. So now, here I am.”

“Here you are,” Jean smiled.

Marco just chuckled as he leaned close and kissed him again. Jean eagerly returned it and had his arms around his neck. They kept close and gasped out each other’s shaky breaths while they kept a secure hold at each other. Jean’s hand moved up to run through Marco’s hair, and as he did his fingers felt along an abnormal curve. This must have been where the damaged temporal lobe was, and his fingers kept lingering there.

This made Marco’s lips falter. He stopped and pulled away, his breath catching in his throat. “No… Don’t do that.”

Jean took his hand and tilted his head. “Wait. Marco, what’s wrong?”

“Just don’t do that, please,” he mumbled. “It doesn’t feel right.”

Shaking his head, Jean held both his hands. “Marco… it’s okay. I won’t touch there again, I’m sorry. But I promise you that you don’t have to worry about that.”

“…It doesn’t bother you?” he asked softly. “That’s the mark set as a reminder that every morning when I wake up my memory goes and resets itself back to square one.”

“It doesn’t bother me,” Jean insisted. “The only thing that bothers me is that you think that it would. Trust me when I say that I don’t mind it.”

“Trust?” Marco repeated the word as if he wasn’t sure he was hearing it right. He remembered back to earlier, when even he sniffled and teared up as he watched the video this morning and read the journal entry that assured him _“Marco, you can trust him. You can trust him with your life.”_

And the response he got was a gentle smile and a nod. “Yeah. Trust me, Marco.”

Marco nodded as he looked at him, trying to relax. “I already do,” he said softly.

Hearing that made Jean’s heart flutter. As he shifted closer to him he rubbed his back soothingly. “You know… I’m still really cold.”

“Sorry,” he grinned and nuzzled his neck as Jean rubbed small but slightly firm circles on his back. Already it eased some tension that he had, and he hummed with a smile on his face. “Jean, keep doing that.”

“You tense here?” Jean whispered while he continued.

He gave him a small nod. “Yeah… a little bit.”

“Maybe I should give you a proper massage then,” he chided and sat up straight.

Marco smiled. “I’d love that. Just hang on a second.” He turned to face away from him and his hands moved down the hem of his shirt. Jean could feel the blush start to rise quickly in his cheeks while the brunette pulled off the clothing and tossed it on the other side of the room, leaving the toned back that he had caught a glimpse of the other day. Even if it was the second time seeing it, it was a breathtaking sight.

Jean cleared his throat just as he watched him lie down on his stomach. “This means that… I should start, right?”

His boyfriend turned his head to face him and grinned. “Well, I should hope so, Jean.”

“Right, right,” Jean stammered and took his place by sitting on Marco’s legs, which he seemed to have no problems with. He stared down at his back, and at first he didn’t realize what he had originally intended on doing. With that being said, as his hands came down to start working on his back, they came down a little firmer than expected.

“Jeez, Jean,” Marco groaned. “I’m not _that_ tense.”

“S-sorry,” he sputtered out and relaxed his hands. His skin was so warm, and the way that the brunette hummed whenever his careful circles and small strokes soothed him made his heart pound.

He kneaded at his shoulders, hoping that he was doing an okay job at this at least. And it seemed, according to the soft noises coming from Marco’s throat, he was doing just fine. He was just honestly surprised that he made it this far into the massage. He actually liked this?

“Didn’t you… say you’re a painter?” he then heard Marco ask, a slightly relaxed slur to his voice.

“Yeah.”

“You sure do know what to do with your hands,” Marco chuckled and turned his head to the side so that his peripherals could see the now red-faced Jean working on getting the tight knots that were dissipating along his upper body.

“D-don’t get me flustered!” Jean gasped, his face hot. He moved his hands down to his shoulder blades, his fingers ghosting down his ribs while he moved his attention down to his lower back. But upon doing so, he noticed the small tremor that could easily be equated to a shiver. Shortly after that, he heard a breathy moan.

A _moan?_ From Marco? Was that music to his ears or was he just being crazy and hearing things?

“Should I… stop?” Jean spoke up while he was slowing down the ministrations on his back.

But Marco whined, putting even the most disappointed of puppies to shame. His breath was hot, and his lips were quirked up into a smile that was starting to lose his life because all of a sudden that incredible feeling moving down his back was taken away too suddenly.

“No, please,” he insisted while the blonde resumed. “Please, this feels really good…” he hummed.

Jean was definitely being tested. He wasn’t sure how long his patience or control was going to last, because he did not want to abuse this trust that Marco had even though his back was _so_ soft and his voice when he was ecstatic was _very sexy_. But as soon as his hands rubbed their small circles and Marco suddenly grabbed him down by the collar of his shirt, he knew that they were both currently on the same page.

This kiss was desperate. Marco had gotten Jean on his back so he was hovered over him and Jean was taken by a pleasant surprise. So quickly they went from soothing hands and soft touches to shaky gasps, locked lips, and tangled limbs grasping at one another in fear one of them would let go. Marco’s lips moved down to Jean’s neck in which the blonde tilted his head back insistently. His breaths were going in sharp and coming out shaky, and the way Marco’s hums sent vibrations along his sensitive skin made shivers run down his body.

“M-Marco…” The way that Jean gasped out his name made the brunette pull away from his neck while his hand ran up his shirt. Jean stared up at him. “Marco… what—”

“I’m sorry.” He sat up. “Was that too fast? I don’t know what came over me, I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry,” Jean insisted and looked down. “I mean, I just wasn’t expecting it like that.”

“Yeah, understandable.” Marco’s hand was still on his side. “Have we ever gotten this far before?”

That was a good question. Probably the farthest they’ve ever gotten before this was when they were making out against the counter at his house. Did he want it to be taken further now that they were both in the mood and have a chance? Of course. But was he nervous about doing so? Absolutely.

Jean shook his head. “No. First time.”

Marco nodded and moved back so that he was hovering over the blonde beneath him. He kissed his lips. “Have _you_ done this before?”

To be honest, Jean lost his virginity at seventeen to a guy that he didn’t even know his name. He thought back and tried guessing if he was an athlete or someone in his Physics class. He couldn’t recall it and was not in the mood to think back on it. And the last time he did was back in Jersey with a non-binary named Sam from Connecticut that was at Long Beach Island for spring break.

“Yeah,” he nodded honestly. “’S been a long while, though.” He watched as Marco moved his hands to the hem of his shirt. “Wait, do you want to do this?”

“Why do you ask?” He was already taking Jean’s shirt off, so it seemed like he did.

Jean shivered while his fingertips ran up his sides. “I just… wanna make sure that you do. I mean, you don’t have to.”

The brunette smiled while he kissed his lips slowly. “Lay your weary head to rest.”

“Do _not_ quote _Carry On My Wayward Son_.” He grinned and wrapped his arms around his neck.

“Don’t you cry no more.” Marco laughed and then kissed him again, like his lips were addicting.

When the brunette straddled him Jean’s heart pounded faster while he itched to grab his shoulders. He wanted him closer, if that was even possible. His hands were so soft as they touched, caressed, _worshipped_ his body with these gentle strokes and grasps and the slightest sensation of nails making hardly visible marks on his sides.

“M-Marco,” he gasped while they pulled down each other’s shorts. “Marco, please. C-can you… touch me some more?”

In response he inched down a bit lower, his giving Jean’s throat open-mouthed kisses while he rubbed his arms and worked his way down, down, _down_ to his tensing stomach. “Like that?”

A quick nod while the moan that comes out of his throat is broken and held back by another gasp. “Yes.”

In response Marco spread Jean’s legs while he rubbed down his thighs, his lips trailing lower down his body. Jean tilted his head back, smiling breathlessly and humming whenever the brunette touched a good spot. And he laughed whenever it tickled. All the while Marco’s lips quirked up in a silly grin while he kissed his skin.

“How’s this?” he murmured while he moved down to just above the rim of his boxers. His hands rubbed small circles up his hips, up to his chest.

“P-perfect,” he stammered and smiled. His back arched while Marco’s fingers took hold of the rim of his boxers. He was itching with anticipation and his hand ran through tufts of his dark hair. Jean looked down and smiled when seeing that the other was waiting for his permission. “Go ahead,” he nodded.

Marco pressed kisses on his stomach and down to his hips while he pulled the blonde’s boxers down, watching him shiver as he was exposed and the cool air hit his hardening cock. He grinned and kissed his hip once more, his hand going up his inner thigh while his lips trailed down even more. Jean couldn’t take his eyes off of him as he shivered because of the way he was touching him, how sweet he was being. How he was looking at him with these soft but blown-out bedroom eyes that were all for him. His boyfriend had his fingers at the base and made his breath catch in his throat.

The brunette’s eyes traveled to his cock, and Jean’s face quickly went red while he felt soft lips press wetly up the shaft. He moved his hand to his mouth while he struggled to stay quiet. Normally very vocal, he didn’t want to be too loud in case Marco didn’t like that. But it just felt _so_ good while his lips took in the head and he was doing such _insane_ things with his pierced tongue. God, he could feel that silver ball adding more pleasure while his entire length was pulsing.

“D-damn, Marco…” He couldn’t help the moan that escaped, even as he tried biting down on his finger to hold it back.

Marco looked up and pulled away as he grinned. Jean’s flushed cheeks and the way his eyes were crossing as he was trying to hold back his noises… It was such a marvel that he felt so grateful to see.

“Marco, why are you laughing?” Jean pouted, his fingers curling into the sheets.

“I’m sorry,” he smiled. “It’s just your facial expressions. They’re cute.”

“Cute?” He blushed and his fingers ran through Marco’s hair. “Well if you want more of them, I mean…”

“Can’t wait to see more then,” he murmured and kissed the sensitive underside of the head, which made Jean cover his mouth again. Marco tried containing it, but when finally he got another moan out of him he had to pull away so that he could laugh again. He couldn’t help it. Jean was _adorable_.

“S-stop laughing!” Jean whined, even as he could feel his tongue tease the slit, which made his whine break off into a breathy moan for more. Marco still grinned up at him, his eyes softening while watching the blonde finally unfold before him.

He stayed quiet, and he now fought all urges to burst into giggles in the future to focus on Jean, making him feel good. He couldn’t get over how his back arched so pretty for him, how his eyes would widen as his piercing made contact as the brunette was swirling his tongue hotly around his cock, and how his fingers curled into his scalp to get him to take more of him in while he was sucking him off so eagerly that when the blonde’s hips stuttered he just opened his throat for him. He couldn’t get over the way his head tilted back as he moaned for _Marco_ and _more_ and _so good, baby._ _Baby…_ Hearing Jean call him “baby” was a new and at the same time exciting addition that let a new fire in his blood ignite.

Jean couldn’t control himself while the muscles in his stomach tightened. Despite being self-conscious of how vocal he tended to be, he let it all out. He lost his filter, and it was evident when under his breath he would mutter ”shit” or during his gasps he would let out a shaky “ _fuck._ ” His breath was hot and heavy, and even though the _insane_ things that Marco could do with his mouth, his lips, his _tongue_ were so incredible, he knew that he was not going to last much longer if he kept this up. He didn’t want to stop him. Not while he was letting him fuck his mouth and pull at his hair. But he wanted so much more than this.

“Marco,” he whimpered and looked down, his eyes cloudy for a second. “M-Marco, please. I need…” He trailed off when his breath hitched again.

But with such grace Marco pulled away for him, even though the blonde did let out a choked whine when he did. He kept his legs spread and trailed his kisses up again just like how he knew Jean liked it. His lips teased over his hip, moved up his stomach, kissed softly at his rising and falling chest. And he showed no signs of stopping as he moved up to his neck. “Hm?” he murmured against his skin while his teeth grazed over it, acknowledging that he was trying to say something.

Jean struggled on his words. He was already mind blown enough, imagine what it was going to be like if they took it further. He looked down, seeing that he was still the only one naked. He wore the biggest goober grump he could muster. “Marco… Your boxers.” His hand moved down to the waistband.

“Whoops,” the brunette chuckled and looked down. “Sorry.”

Jean had seen Marco’s body before, of course. But even then it did not prepare him for the sight of his boyfriend being fully exposed with his lithe body and the tattoos, and the piercing on his cock. His cheeks were burning, and he had to divert his eyes up at the ceiling for a second to contain himself. He could’ve come right then and there if he didn’t, because _shit_ he was so damn attractive in every aspect.

When he looked back down Marco’s leaned back down to his neck. As he was kissing it Jean grinned as he was more aware of the way his stubbly chin was faintly scratching at his skin. His hand lowered down to between the brunette’s legs, and when he took hold of his erection and rolled back the foreskin he heard him moan hotly against him while his face was still such a bright red. And just feeling the piercing which made Marco’s breath hitch every time he touched it sent shivers down his spine. He really wondered what it would feel like inside him.

“Jean—” Marco gasped out quickly when the blonde’s thumb rubbed against the slit. “H-hold up, I’m really sensitive.”

Jean moved his hand away, his face flushed while he listened to Marco’s heavy pants. “Is it ‘cause the foreskin?”

“Yeah.” His fingers were curled into the sheets on both sides of Jean’s head. “Makes it really sensitive if you touch it right away.” He wouldn’t mind it if he touched him again there, since that had felt really good, but he didn’t mind.

Jean was already grabbing his back to pull him down closer and deeply kissing him. He wanted more of him and just couldn’t find the words to say so. He struggled to keep an even breath while he spread his legs.

“M-Marco,” he stammered as he pulled away, only to hide his face in his neck. “Oh, Marco. Please…”

“What do you want?” he mused while he lightly scratched up his sides, which made him arch up again.

“More, I…” Trying to erotically talk to him made Jean flustered. He tried again and cleared his throat. “I want more. I—I want you inside me.”

The brunette blushed as he stared down at him. He noticed how flushed his face was, how it spread down to as far as his chest. Drool was starting to run down his chin from his parted, kiss-swollen lips.

“You sure?” Marco asked, sitting up.

As the blonde nodded he felt a sudden surge of confidence when looking at him as he kept his legs spread while sprawled out on the bed. He licked his lips and grinned up at him. “I’m ready for you, Dale Cooper.”

He recoiled only slightly. “The fuck? You know about that?”

“Guilty!” Jean smirked as his boyfriend covered his face.

“Shit, man!” the brunette stuttered, his face getting so red for a moment that his freckles were hardly noticeable on his face. “P-please don’t do that again, that was so embarrassing!”

“Hey, you quoted _Carry On My Wayward Son_ ,” he snarked playfully. “Payback.”

“Oh, _fine._ ” He groaned and leaned over to the nightstand drawer. Jean laughed while he watched him, and Marco couldn’t help but smile once more while he took out a bottle of lube and a few condoms.

Jean was blushing all the while and grinned. “You’re feeling really lucky, huh?”

“’M just checking to make sure that they’re not expired.” He wobbled a bit on his words and swallowed. “It’s been a while for me too. Longer than I thought.”

“I’m just yanking your chain,” he assured him while he reached over, his hand touching the tattoo on his backside and rubbing it. “This is hot actually.”

He cleared his throat and almost dropped the bottle while his hand was shaking. “Hnk—ah… I think we’re good?” He checked the date on the condom in his hand again. “Y-yeah, we’re good.”

“Great,” he smiled while the brunette put it down next to him. He noticed the evident “non-latex” written across it that reminded him of the allergy. He took a deep breath when watching Marco pour the liquid onto his fingers and spread it so that he could get it everywhere.

His slicked hand lowered down to his entrance after spreading his legs. And when he pushed that first finger in Jean made no rush in grabbing tightly at the sheets on both sides of him. Sure it had been a while since he had done this, but it still felt so _good_. And for a few moments he could not comprehend a single thought other than how hot it sounded as Marco was inching it in further and letting him slowly adjust so that he was comfortable. To acknowledge how nice it felt the blonde managed a faltering hum while his toes curled and he tried keep his eyes open so that he could watch him.

Marco bent his legs at the knee while he pulled the finger out, only to add a second and slowly work him open. Jean covered his mouth again when embarrassed to let out more noises, trying to bite back his whines while the other’s lips left a flame in his wake. It felt so good and he had the urge to open his mouth wide like he did earlier to just let it all out instead of uttering these gasps that were not doing any justice. As a third finger was worked in slowly and he was being stretched open by the scissoring motion, he bit down hard on his hand, breathing hard through his nose while his eyes crossed.

Slowly getting confused, Marco looked up as he continued and kissed under his chin. “Hey, what’s up?” he murmured. “Why are you so quiet?”

The blonde moved his hand away so that he could speak, his thighs shaking and his head tilting back while a moan desperately made its way out after minutes of holding back. “I… Ah, I’m sorry. I’m too vocal.”

“Whoever said that?” He tilted his head and smiled while he kissed his forehead. “That’s just silly.”

“It’s stupid, I know,” he mumbled just as the brunette pulled his fingers away. He whined again because he was being taken so high and he stopped too soon.

Marco shook his head and his hand ran up from his leg and over his chest to take his shaking hand. “You know something? I really like hearing your noises. Please don’t hold them back.”

Jean was surprised by how large the wave of relief that crashed onto him was. At least he liked them, so he then had no reason to hold them back. The trick was to keep himself from doing so now that he knew Marco liked it. But at the moment he was trying to focus on taking deep breaths, keeping relaxed while his legs were spread and bent at the knee so he was fully exposed and waiting so patiently. He was also trying not to lose it right then and there when watching Marco take the condom out of the wrapper and slide it over his pierced cock. The soft pants that he elicited as he slicked himself with the lube was enough to bring Jean to his knees if he had been standing.

The way that he then held Jean’s hips. The way that the tip was already pressed right against his entrance which was making his thighs shake even more than before as his hands hurried to reach out and hold on tightly to Marco’s frame. It was making his heart pound while he struggled to stay calm. But with such grace and tenderness Marco kissed his worries away, over and _over_ and so softly that Jean melted under his secure embrace as he nodded for him to start.

Jean shuddered as Marco worked his way in slowly, giving small thrusts in to allow the blonde to adjust. He had to hold onto the nape of his neck and his shoulder in order to keep himself steady. He was pretty thick, and the way his _piercing_ was also easy to be felt inside of him sent shivers down his spine while he moaned and curled his fingers. He felt the brunette’s hips roll evenly into him until his hips were pressed right against his ass. He was shaking all over, trying to hold on.

“Mm… M-Marco,” he gasped, adjusting rather easily as his legs held him securely and close to his body. “Feels good.”

The blonde pulled Marco down just as his hips rolled again, kissing him deeply and hotly while he tried to keep even his fingers from trembling. Marco returned this kiss so eagerly and swallowed each gasp and moan from his mouth. When they pulled away Jean quickly kissed him once more, then again, a third time for good measure while he was feeling the other rock his hips again that made him keen in surprise.

There was a tremor in Jean’s breath as he was shaking when Marco’s slow grinds began. And even then his kissing didn’t stop. His lips, his chin and jawline, his neck, anywhere he could possibly reach while a strained moan escaped as he gripped the sheets. Jean held onto him, and he was just so excited and so nervous at the same time. The realization dawned upon him that this was their first time. They have never been so close to each other up until now.

He guessed that Marco probably realized this too. While one hand was curling into the sheets while resting on the blonde’s head, his other took Jean’s hand that was currently scratching his shoulder. He squeezed it, in which the gesture was then quickly returned, and they kept a good hold while being pinned to the bed. With their fingers intertwined, Jean started to relax, and he let out a cracked moan while he rocked his hips almost desperately.

“Relax…” Marco murmured while kissing up his neck. “Don’t rush it.”

Jean could hear the smile in his voice while he relaxed and realized that he was still grinding rather slow. He was not complaining at _all_ , but usually this was when things would get faster, rougher, and greedier. But none of that was there, even as the brunette ground deeper so that he moaned for him again. There was just… love.

“Ahh, Marco—” His breath hitched. He could feel the way that he was taking so much of him. He could feel it coming slow, _deep_ going in, and hot reluctance with coming out that was relieved with another thrust of the same fervor. He could feel that piercing, and how smooth it was with this pace. “I… Baby, t-that feels so good.”

His words were rushed, but the kiss that followed was not. It was just as sweet as this pace, and Jean’s back was arching so high and so pretty that he was pressed against him and lifted off the bed. Marco took that initiative to hug Jean close to him while they squeezed each other’s hands tighter.

His head tilted back while the brunette bent him back more. And that angle was so _perfect_ and Jean felt the head of his cock easily hitting his sweet spot and not once stopping as he was grinding deeper but still kept it nice and slow. He was melting, unraveling, and moaning breathlessly. It was a struggle to form words at this point when he could hear Marco whispering to him, telling him how good he was, how _incredible_ he felt, and ah—how beautiful he was in body and spirit, even underneath him like this and silently begging for him.

No one had ever made love to him like this before. He had been with quite a few people himself, but none of them were ever this gentle, this tender. He felt so amazing and felt so high that he didn’t want to come down. He loved him. He wanted to tell him that, but he wasn’t sure if he should. What if he didn’t return the favor? What if even though this was so sweet and so loving, this was just a fling? He was worrying and trying to hold on, and he just wanted to—

“I love you, Jean…”

He was gone. Lost now in the tide when hearing him say those three words. _I love you…. I love you._ He said it first. He felt it, he meant it. It was there. The passion was there as well as all the love that he was feeling and giving, and Jean was just gone.

“I love you!” Jean couldn’t hold it back while he was struggling on his words and gripping his back, while he was squeezing his hand with the tightness that made it evident he made no intentions on letting it go. “I love you, baby. M-Marco, I love you!”

_I love you._

By the way he was tightening around him, Marco could tell that the orgasm was slowly building. He stuttered on his next moan while he went faster, grinding deeper while Jean’s moans were getting hotter, breathier, and coming quicker. They were holding hands so tightly that their knuckles were starting to turn white, but neither of them cared.

“Jean, you’re so good.” His breath hitched as the blonde bucked his hips up, and their moans were sounding more desperate as they were getting closer. “You’re… so good, you’re incredible.”

“F-fuck.” His breathing getting ragged, Jean was tightening and it was _building_ , and he couldn’t hold on for much longer. He arched up higher and held on tighter, his hand shaking as well in his boyfriend’s hold while he pulled him closer with his legs. “Marco, _Marco—_ I-I’m gonna—Marco, _please._ ”

Marco leaned down to kiss him again, and Jean whimpered against his lips while he held on more desperately. The brunette leaned down to start kissing his neck. “I’ve got you, Jean,” he hummed while he hugged him tighter in his arm and brought him closer with each deep thrust that had just the right amount of force. “Let it go, it’s okay.” He was getting close himself, and his shoulders tensed while he kissed wetly up his throat.

When Jean came his entire body trembled underneath his lover as he was being taken even _higher_ with each thrust that carried him. He was breathless while Marco kissed his sweat-slicked skin, and he shook from the endless waves that crashed over him. The brunette gasped as he soon blissfully followed him. They were lost in a labyrinth where the air was littered with the breathless coloring of each other’s names, where everything they touch is so hot and sensitive, and where the walls crumbled from the slightest, elated disturbance. The only thing that guided them was their lips meeting in between each gasp and whine while they were slowly coming down. With every kiss and every breath they took together, they were getting closer to home.

Even after Marco’s pace slowed to a stop and they were not shaking as badly, they still held hands. Jean looked over at them and saw that they were still locked in a tight hold. The brunette smiled as he panted and brought Jean’s hand to his lips to kiss it sweetly. This felt for a minute like one of Jean’s deepest fantasies, like this was just a dream that he was going to wake up from. He came down from his high too hard and it dawned upon him that this… Marco was not going to remember any of this tomorrow morning. He wasn’t going to remember how good they made each other feel, that they both told each other eagerly that they loved each other. Tomorrow when he wakes up, all of that was going to be gone while the slate wiped itself clean.

And that thought brought tears to his eyes. He was still trying to catch his breath, and it didn’t help that his throat was tightening and he was trying to keep back a sob. Marco noticed this as he pulled out slowly, and he cupped his cheek to look at him as the tears were falling.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered as he kept close to him. He let go of his hand to stroke his hair. “Jean, are you okay?”

The blonde nodded while he tried hiding his face, not wanting Marco to see him cry. “I just… I-I don’t want you to forget this.” He felt too comfortable being with Marco like this. But he knew that when he’d wake up the next morning he would be homeless again. “I love you, Marco… A-and you brought me home.”

Marco stared down at him and felt a little guilty. They both knew he couldn’t help this, but with the journal he had he could still look back on this. He could write this moment down and it would be in there forever, and he could always reread it and happily think about how that might have felt. But it was not the same. No one can properly write the immense passion and bliss onto a piece of paper.

“I know… I’m sorry.” He moved Jean’s hands away from his face and kissed his forehead. He wiped the tears away gently, just wanting to soothe Jean’s worries. “You brought me home too.” He smiled softly when Jean’s eyes had a new, more relieved gleam.

Jean’s hands held him by the back of his neck as he kissed him again. He stayed close to him and kept his hold as if he would lose him if he let go.

“I love you,” he said again. Maybe if he said it as many times as he could, he would remember this tomorrow. “I really do, Marco.”

“And I love you.” His smile was as bright as ever, and he got up from the bed out of reluctance. “Hang on, we’d better get cleaned up.”

The blonde nodded as he sat up. He noticed his boyfriend open a book after getting out of bed and start jotting things down. “Hey, what are you doing?” he cocked his head to the side.

Marco looked over and blushed. “Uh, I forgot to write some things down about work tomorrow. Reiner called me before our date, so yeah.”

“And you remembered _just now?_ ” he laughed and reached over. “Let me see.”

“No way, it’s a jumbled mess of notes.” The brunette hurried with the last couple sentences before shoving it in the nightstand drawer. He had his condom taken off and disposed of, and he went to the bathroom to get a towel to clean them both up with. He was careful with Jean, gentle as ever.

“Hey… I have an idea,” Jean said while his chest and stomach were being cleaned off. He got a confused response but continued. “If you stay up tonight, maybe you can remember everything in the morning.”

“Jean, I don’t think that’s how it works,” he sighed.

“Well it’s worth a try, right?” He took the towel to clean Marco off. “Your memory gets wiped clean as you sleep. So if you don’t sleep at all, maybe it won’t reset.”

“I do have work in the morning,” he sighed and looked at the clock. “It’s past midnight.”

He nodded. “Can I… can I just stay here then? Please?”

As Marco laid down he smiled as he pulled him closer, kissing his hair. “Yeah, there’s no way I’m making you leave.”

Jean grinned as they kissed each other again, and the blankets were pulled over them. They spent more time together in silence, occasionally looking over at the window and seeing the drying droplets from when it stopped raining a while ago. When they both felt it was needed, they’d kiss sweetly as many times as they felt necessary at the moment.

When it had been quiet for too long and he looked back at the clock again, it was after one the morning. He looked up at his boyfriend. “Marco… are you awake?”

“Mmh.” Just barely. He was dozing off.

He sighed and cuddled close to him. It was inevitable that Marco would eventually fall asleep, but he really just hoped that he could make this night last as long as possible.

“Marco…” He curled his fingers as he held his arm. “If you can do one thing for me… just please remember tonight. Please have tonight in your mind at least somewhere.” His eyes started watering again. “Please… I want us to think about it tomorrow so we can smile and cuddle while kissing each other and touching our sensitive and ticklish spots. I want this to go somewhere, go to our future…” He sniffled and lowered his head. “I don’t want you to forget tonight. I don’t want to be homeless again.”

He was startled by the soft sound of snoring. He looked up and saw that Marco was sleeping already. For a moment his vision was cloudy as he kept close to him. Wiping his eyes, he leaned up and kissed his lips again, so softly so that he would not wake him up.

“I hope you got all that.” His voice was barely a whisper while he nuzzled his chest and closed his eyes. “I love you…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday today actually, and I'm really happy with how this chapter came out for many reasons. This is my very last time writing sexual content as a minor, and in general I've been working very hard on my style and my technique. And knowing that there are people on tumblr and twitter that are talking about this fic and loving it as much as you all do makes me really happy that I wrote this and that it made such an impact on you all.   
> And here is where I now say that I'm going to take an Intermission from writing this fic. For a couple reasons. I'm starting college full-time on Wednesday, but I am also going to be working part-time on top of that. And I just need some time to adjust before I continue working on this fic. I'd like to thank you in advance for your consideration, and the next chapter will be posted as soon as I know that I am adjusted to the way things are after such a long summer of doing absolutely nothing. Thank you very much for this.


	10. Fairytale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They say that things don’t last forever. Does that mean that this has to end now?  
> No one ever wants to say goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a special thanks to Ao3 user Jayjaykirschtein for writing the monologues for my birthday. It helped a lot, and they're really great.
> 
> I'm pretty much back now.
> 
> ...And I am so sorry.

_“I’m in love with a fairytale,_

_Even though it hurts._

_I don’t care if I lose my mind._

_I’m already cursed.”_

-       _Fairytale,_ Alexander Rybak

* * *

 

 _The alarm clock was going off_ at seven in the morning. Jean woke up just as it did and he heard Marco quickly turn it off. He smiled while opening his eyes, and he looked up drowsily.

“Mm ‘morning,” he hummed and kept close, not noticing the other’s body stiffen when staring down at him. What he did notice though was how roughly he was shoved away, and he became more alert, his eyes wide as he stared up at the brunette.

Marco’s eyes showed the tinge of fear and confusion as he stared down at the naked man that had been so close to him. He noticed his own lack of clothes and glared down accusingly at the blonde that looked so hurt.

“Who the hell are you?”

Jean tensed, staring up at Marco just as he was grabbing the lacrosse stick that was mounted on the wall.

“Marco… M-Marco it's me,” he insisted. But then he realized that he had no idea who “me” was. “Marco, I can explain—” He tripped over their clothes and stumbled back, keeping the sheets covering the lower half of his body.

“How do you know my name, you freak?” Marco muttered, holding the stick in his tight grip and swinging.

Jean quickly shifted back to get out of the line of fire. He had nothing to protect himself but was trying his best. “Look, it’s gonna sound crazy, but… we’re dating, yeah? And we’re in love with each other. You said so yourself last night!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! I never saw you before in my life!”

“Marco—” He dodged another swing that knocked over a couple of books got knocked over. “Marco… you were in an accident t-two years ago.” He wanted to try explaining it to him. “And because of that accident you think every morning that it is your sister’s birthday. B-but it’s not—” He dodged again. “It’s July 2014! The twenty-ninth to be exact. Just please, you have to trust me!”

This time he didn’t have a chance to dodge. He fell to the ground and held his head where he’d just been hit by the lacrosse stick. Marco’s breathing was heavy as he looked down at Jean, very defensive.

Jean rubbed his head, wincing each time he could feel the small bump that was already starting to form there. He heard loud footsteps coming up the stairs, and after that he was on the ground. Erwin and Levi rushed in and looked at the scene.

“Shit,” Erwin groaned as Marco dropped the stick.

Levi rushed over just as Erwin dragged Jean up to his feet, graciously having the blanket over himself still and grabbing his clothes as well.

“Dad?” Marco sat down. He kept staring at the now disoriented stranger. He seemed a little attached and kept looking at him. “This… man was in my bed.”

“Figured that as much,” Levi sighed. “Erwin, let’s get him downstairs. I’ll call Dr. Hanji.”

The two of them took Jean downstairs and left Marco alone in his room. They handed Jean ice, seeing the large bump on his head.

He just groaned and looked down. “I’m sorry about this, okay…? I didn’t mean for him to act like that, I just…”

“I know,” Erwin said.

Levi meanwhile had his eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t you just leave after Marco went to sleep? That would’ve been much easier.”

“W-we were both tired…” He looked down. “And I just wanted to be close to him for the night.”

“We understand that, but you know better!” It was relative that he was very displeased to say the least.

“Le—M-Mr. Ackerman…” Jean was more aware that the only thing covering him was a towel, and he held it tighter in his free hand. “I’m so sorry.”

They said nothing to him after that. Their big concern was waiting for Hanji to stop by, and Ymir had gone upstairs so that she could show her younger brother the video. After all, that little DVD was the only way that he could see what happened in his life other than his journal. In the meantime, Jean got dressed in the bathroom and stayed in there for a while. At least a half hour. And he did nothing in there after dressing but stare into the mirror at himself and watch his eyes get redder and redder from the unwelcomed feelings of regret and sadness.

“I think I really messed up…”

He wiped his eyes and looked at himself. He messed up big time. He knew he shouldn’t have stayed in Marco’s bedroom overnight, even if he did say that he wanted him to. Because of course Marco was not going to think that if he woke up the next morning and suddenly saw a strange-looking guy lying there naked next to him and fast asleep. Levi was right. He should’ve known better.

And to think that he thought him trying to talk to Marco last night was going to work. Of course it didn’t. Look at what ended up happening. Those sweet touches, the gentle kisses and the way that Marco simply _worshipped_ his tender body. And the way that he made such sweet love to him and whispered to him words of praise beauty in the dark. It was all gone, the minute that Marco had entered into that deep sleep which started at one in the morning. Everything… it was gone.

And he didn’t know how he was going to get all of that back.

Jean wiped his eyes when hearing the front door open, but he stayed seated on the edge of the tub. He couldn’t really hear them talking downstairs from how thick the walls were, but he could tell that Hanji was there now, speaking to Erwin and Levi, or Marco probably. They were probably trying to explain to him what was going on and why he didn’t remember anything, or whatever they case may have been. Jean just wanted to make sure that Marco was properly explained everything to him after what he imagined was quite a scare. After all, he was just a stranger lying there in his bed at least an hour or so before this moment.

The knock on the door took him away from his thoughts, and he sighed heavily. He really didn’t want to get out of this bathroom. But it was Hanji’s voice that managed to get his attention.

“Hey Jean, are you in there?” they called. “It’d be better if you were out here now, okay? So that you can tell me what happened in the bedroom?”

He couldn’t tell if they meant before they went to sleep or after Marco saw him when they woke up. Either way, Jean wasn’t sure if he could bring himself to talk about the fact that the night after their first time being together and becoming one, beautifully unified was… shoved down the drain after the rag had wiped Marco’s slate clean. Oh well. This questioning was supposed to help his lover, so he was going to go through it, even if having to remind himself that was going to bring him heartache.

Jean stepped out of the bathroom, his heart heavy as he looked at Hanji. They just smiled lightly and led him downstairs where Erwin and Levi were waiting for them to come downstairs. Even after he managed to find his footing on the bottom floor of the house, Jean felt like he was still drifting down to the ground like a flimsy piece of paper.

“Now Jean, how did Marco behave when he saw you lying in the bed with him?” Hanji asked.

Kind of awkward now to ask that question with Marco’s parents sitting right there. But Jean gave it a whirl. “Well… I said good morning to him, like anyone would do after they had a good night. It was just an easy reaction, more or less. But Marco… he—Marco looked scared. He was definitely startled, and it was all for self-defense. So I’m not really that mad about him hitting me with the lacrosse stick.”

They looked up. “He hit you with a lacrosse stick?”

A nod, followed by a tilt of his head to show the bruise from earlier that was now growing a little larger after a period of time. “Yeah, but it’s not that big of a deal.” He knew that the best thing to do was to try and pick himself up from this. He needed to be strong. He could let it out later. Much, much later.

“I’m sorry about that,” they said softly. They had brought a little notepad with them and started to jot down a couple more notes. “Maybe his therapist can explain what’s going on more when I talk to them.”

Jean cocked his head to the side. “What therapist?”

Erwin avoided their gaze. “Hanji… he’s not seeing one.”

“…Are you kidding me?”

“We’re not kidding, Hanji,” Levi sighed.

“You mean to tell me that you guys are letting him go through this path to recovery _without_ therapy?” they groaned. “Levi, I thought that at least you would know better.”

“Everything was going so well, I didn’t think he would need it,” he offered.

“Of _course_ he needs it!” Hanji rubbed their brow. “Are you out of your minds? I swear.”

Meanwhile Jean was unsure. He figured that Marco’s parents would have everything taken care of, but he did not consider the fact that he needed therapy. But what did he know, he was just some artist from New Jersey. “Wait. Dr. Hanji, can I ask why? If what we have has been working, why does he still need therapy?”

“Listen, Jean,” Hanji sighed. “This has all been cute and nice, or what have you. But Marco’s condition is very serious, it’s common sense that he should have therapy. He needs a specialist, someone that knows how to help him with his current thoughts and to help him process things better. This video was supposed to be just a supplement for him. He needs more than just an overview on how things have been. He needs to have things answered that he doesn’t understand. He needs to be settled into this type of atmosphere better with having the things he is worried about brushed up and made known to him.”

He listened, but all he could do was nod along. This was all news to him, and he honestly felt like an ass for not thinking otherwise. “I think I understand now. He did always ask a lot of questions and always looked like he was a little off, even when we had a good day.”

“What kind of questions?” they said.

“Like, why this happened to him. And why he couldn’t have met me the day before the accident. And there’s a lot of others he asks that I think are really taking him down every day. He keeps questioning why I am still here for him when it’s obvious why I am. It’s the same thing at the end of the day.”

Hanji looked at Erwin and Levi first. “You guys are getting on my nerves. Set up sessions with a counselor immediately. Three times a week being the minimum. If this kept happening without you two being aware of it, Marco might hurt himself. I’m disappointed.”

They were just silent, no apologies necessary since Hanji was not the one that they should be saying sorry to.

Then Hanji’s attention turned back to Jean. “No matter what happens after these sessions, just do what you think is best for Marco. If he says something that he thinks might help him, don’t question it. But don’t lose touch. He can say things that you think he wouldn’t. He will address things that you think he wouldn’t talk about. Just listen to him, and do what you think is best.” They sighed and looked over at the stairs. “I’m going to talk to Marco, let him know that you guys are having him go to therapy. God knows he really needs it.”

Jean watched Hanji go upstairs, and he sighed heavily before looking back over at his parents. “So… were you going to wait for the right moment to give him therapy, or were you just not going to?”

“Again.” Levi muttered. “Everything was working just fine. And with the video method, that is something that therapists recommend for their patients, so it’s not like we were complete assholes for not getting him it.”

“But still…” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “If I knew that he needed therapy, I would’ve gotten him there right away. I don’t like seeing him this conflicted.”

“Neither do we,” Erwin sighed.

They sat for another moment in silence. The three of them occasionally glanced up and over at the stairs, waiting for Hanji, or Marco, or some kind of response from the two of them. The minutes were getting much longer as they waited in silence.

Levi finally spoke up after giving Jean a long look. “So… what was this that I heard about New York?”

He stiffened. “Wait… you know about that? How?”

“Sasha,” he shrugged. “She was talking about it with Connie at the bakery when I was visiting Marco the other day. They were both thinking about how that was a big opportunity for you… what was it?”

“Oh.” Jean cleared his throat. “I befriended a woman that I met during Memorial Day weekend, and recently she told me about a job offer that her uncle had open. He needed a new advertising team, and I’m one of the best qualified people that Hitch knew she could recommend. And he gave me a month to decide if I wanted to do it. It’s a huge opportunity, because of course, it’s _New York City,_ but I’m going to be there for three months and I just moved down here from Jersey. That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Well if you put the moving in that sense.” Erwin blinked. “But still. I know that you do work in graphic design as well as do painting, and you haven’t had a job opportunity as big as this before, as far as I know. I think that you should take the job. I mean, we’re still going to be here. We’re never going to go away.”

“Yeah, but I don’t wanna leave Marco for three months. Not only that, I’m not sure if it even is going to be longer than three months. You never know, y’know?”

Levi sighed. “Well, it’s only a suggestion, and I also feel that you should take the job. What is the deadline for when you have to decide what you’re doing. Do you know?”

Jean nodded. “August second.”

“It’s July twenty-ninth, Jean. You have four days.”

“I know,” he insisted. “But I don’t want to take the job. I already said that. So it’s a no.”

“Jean…” Erwin looked at him. “If you want my opinion, you should definitely go. This is an important job, even if the company may not be that large. I can already tell that you and Connie need that money.”

He lowered his head. “We do… Working overtime and doing commissions combined between the two of us is not really enough. I could send money to Connie to help pay for the house.”

“Exactly.”

“But what about Marco?” That was Jean’s biggest concern.

“He’s a big boy, he’ll be fine,” Erwin insisted. “Just talk it over with him when you get the chance to.”

“But I don’t want to take the job. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

“Come on, Jean,” Levi sighed. “You have to really think about this.”

He shook his head. “I made my decision. I’m staying here.” He wasn’t going to change his mind. Not now. Not when he still needed to look after Marco and make sure that he was okay. Well at least he was going to have therapy now, and that was something he was seriously lacking.

Meanwhile Marco stood right at the top of the stairs. He heard the whole conversation. He now knew that Jean was about to turn down a very important job. This man that was his boyfriend, now that he knew it was true from watching the video with Hanji, was staying behind because of him.

He was starting to feel a little discouraged when Hanji placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked over at them.

“I can arrange for you to see Dr. Zacharius regularly, okay? He’ll be able to help you out with those questions you have.”

Marco nodded slowly. “Okay, that’s fine.”

They smiled. “You’ve done pretty great progress with the methods you have been doing. But it’s good that you see Dr. Zacharius so that you can have that extra help.”

“I see.” The two of them both went downstairs, and Marco gave his parents a smile. When his attention turned towards Jean, he scratched his neck. “Hey, uh… I’m sorry… Jean. That’s your name, yes?”

“Yep. That’s my name,” he chuckled. “It’s okay, Marco.”

“You have a huge bump on your head though,” he sighed.

“It’s fine. I got ice.” Where did it go? Jean turned around and he couldn’t see the pack anywhere until he went back in the kitchen and got it off the counter.

“Pa, Dr. Hanji said that I should see Dr. Zacharius.” Marco handed the card to Erwin that they had given him. “I’ll call him, and then hopefully I’ll see him today, okay?”

“Perfect,” Erwin smiled. “Do you want me to call Reiner and tell him?”

“No, I can do that.” He glanced at the kitchen, seeing Jean wincing while he was applying the ice to the bump. He sighed and went upstairs. “Just tell Jean again that I’m sorry…”

“No problem,” he assured him. “Just go upstairs and get yourself settled.”

And that was what Marco did. He got dressed and couldn’t stop thinking about Jean and how he had treated him when they first woke up. He wished he’d known better. He wished that he realized Jean was his lover and not just some stranger. That way he wouldn’t have hit him with his old lacrosse stick. He wouldn’t have been so angry. Judging by the fact Jean didn’t wear any clothes when he first saw him, they must have done something last night.

Glancing over at his nightstand, Marco saw his journal. He grabbed it and opened it at the most recent pages.

 

  _July 26, 2014  
_

_Jean and I went to the beach again. Good thing we had Pa’s Polaroid because then we were able to take pictures. That’s how we were able to take that picture you see in the corner. The one with all the shells together.  
_

_Today was so nice, and work was pretty good. Tomorrow’s going to be another busy day at Braun’s Pastries._

 

Marco sighed and flipped the page. He saw the picture of the shells, as well as a goofy picture right on the other side of them making silly faces into the camera. The picture looked a little fuzzy because of the Polaroid, but he was still able to make out that they were at the bakery. He then read the next entry.

 

_July 27, 2014_

_Today was such a bad day. I was so busy with all these orders, and my break didn’t seem long enough. It probably wasn’t. I dropped one of the really important cakes, and it was really hard to remake it in the oven._

_To make matters worse I had such a migraine. I think I disappointed Jean by cancelling our date tonight, even though he said it was okay. He did stop by to check on me, and he made me a light dinner. It tasted awful. But it’s the thought that counts._

_I know that in an earlier entry (I think it was the 24 th?) I said that he was such an extraordinary person or something like that. I’m not trying to sound poetic or whatever, but… I’m in love with him. I really am. I love Jean. I want to find out when is the best time I could tell him. Because he has done so much for me, and I want to be able to do the same for him. Even if it’s just a little thing as saying three tiny words to him._

_Okay, now I’m just going to take some more Excedrin and go to sleep. That’s the best for me. Maybe we can do our beach date tomorrow._

Marco just kept reading the entries. It was very calming, to read about the past and know what happened. He then went to read the next page, a little more curious since this was now yesterday’s journal entry.

 

_July 28, 2014_

_We made love last night. It was incredible, and Jean wouldn’t let go of my hand. I finally told him I loved him. That was when he started to cry. I guess that this time I spent in bed with him really was a relief for him, to see how much I really cared about him and appreciated what he does for me._

_I think I love him even more, now that we got a chance to be so close and he looked so perfect. He cares so much about me. And I love him too._

_Please don’t freak out if you see him in the bed with you. He really cares about you, and we both decided that he could stay in the bed with me. I don’t even want to think about how upset he would be if I yelled or hit him because I didn’t know who he was._

_So please… Please don’t be afraid—_

A teardrop hit the page. It only was followed by more cascading down on the paper. This was what he wrote last night. He tried assuring himself as the reader that he should not freak out. But of course he did, so… Marco in his recent past wished not to do harm on his lover. But that was exactly what he did in the present when he woke up beside him. When they were hand in hand, naked with only the blankets and each other’s heat to keep them warm. The only kind of emotion he showed his lover when he opened his eyes and smiled drowsily at him and whispered a sweet and raspy “good morning,” was a shove off the warm bed and a hit to the head with his obnoxious lacrosse stick.

This was what he couldn’t stand. He hated that he was so in love with Jean, and it seemed that he had the same feelings, and there was really nothing he could do to help repay him for all the work he had done for him, all the time he had spent making sure that he was happy, even though his memory only lasted twenty-four hours each day. And then their love and relationship would reset once more at an insertion of a disc and a push of a button.

This was it. This was all their love was going to be.

He took his phone out and shook his head. He didn’t need these thoughts right now. He shouldn’t think about this. He was just upset because he just found out about his memory loss… again. Was he always like this afterwards? Probably, but he hoped not. He knew that he needed to call Dr. Zacharius about scheduling an appointment for him. So he did so mainly out of reluctance now that he was so upset. And then he’d have to call Reiner afterwards.

But there was still something that really bothered him as he talked to the therapist. It was that job. The job that Jean was going to reject because of him. Because he wanted to stay with him. It didn’t feel right that he was staying like this, especially since this ship was starting to get really, really rocky. Maybe it was better that Jean really took that job. Maybe it was better that he left. That would make things easier on the two of them.

It would be much less painful.

\--

 _Staring down at the cigarette he_ put out on the ground, Jean leaned back further against the wall of his house. He listened to the screaming of the gulls and the ferocious crashing of the waves that let him know it was high tide. The rain wasn’t helping at all either. The day was just slowly getting worse, and it was emphasized by the change in the weather.

Connie opened the sliding glass door and looked out to see Jean sitting there, drenched and shivering. “What the hell are you doing out here?! The storm’s only gonna get worse!”

Jean glanced up, wiping his puffy eyes but quickly they were wet once more because the rain just kept falling.

“Hey, I know what happened was pretty bad, but listen. It was just a bad day, right? It happens. It’s nothing to be this upset about, you’ve done this before just fine.”

“I know, but…” Jean swallowed as he got up to his feet, shaking out his hair. Connie finally got him to come inside, but he kept his head down as his soaked shoes squeaked on the floor. “I just thought it would be different… because last night was our first time.”

It got Connie’s attention as he grabbed some bread from the pantry. “It was?”

He nodded. “And it was the best night of my life. But today has just been the worst.” He took his jacket off that was plastered to his torso. “Dude, this is probably the most difficult thing I’ve ever done in my entire life.”

“What?” He had some bread in his mouth. “This relationship?”

“Yeah…” He sat down on the couch. “There have been high school crushes and little flirtations, you know that. But… I honestly don’t think I’ve ever been this in love with someone as I am right now with Marco. I haven’t. But I know it’s love. I know it’s real because it hurts like hell. This feeling grabs me by my hair and slams me against the dirt every fucking day of my life. And yet, it doesn’t hurt me, because it’s how love is supposed to feel for me. It’s just that it hurts more than expected because he doesn’t know it.” He groaned. “Well, no… I mean, he knows it because we all tell him every day. But he doesn’t remember it.”

“But Jean, you knew this was going to happen. You originally said when you started the relationship that you didn’t care about that.”

“I know, and I don’t!” Jean insisted, raising his voice as he pushed hair out of his face. “But that’s what really kills me. Every day he wakes up not remembering anything about the day before. He has no memory of who I am or what we are. At least… that’s what we all think.”

Connie sat down. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m saying that there is some part of me that wants to believe otherwise. A tiny part of me in the back of my brain keeps telling me that he knows who I am. That this is real. That the pain is only temporary and eventually we can be together without all this trauma. But as always…” Jean sighed, “the pain outweighs the serenity.”

He walked upstairs, into his studio, and Connie just followed him, making sure that he was okay. But all Jean did once he was inside was look out the window to see the ocean and the torrential downpour occurring outside.

“My heart aches when I see his face,” he said softly, “and there’s nothing I can ever do to job his memory about the nights we spend in each other’s arms. The days we walked along the beach, hand in hand.” He curled his fingers to clench them into a fist. “The times we spent inside when it rained making brownies and singing songs. Nothing will remind him of that.” Noticing that Connie was still listening, he looked over as he wiped his eyes. “But there’s one thing that gives me hope. One tiny thing… That song.”

He blinked. “The one he sings all the time?”

“Yes.” Jean rubbed his arm. “I don’t know… When he sings it, my heart skips a beat because it shows that there is something between us. It shows that he really is home when he’s with me. It shows that in the back of his mind, in the very depths of his consciousness… he remembers me.” He breathed out a laugh. “It may be far-fetched to say that, but that’s what keeps me going. That’s how I know it’s all real, because when he sings that song, all the pain just melts away as if it never existed. So in a way, I think my mind is right.”

Connie shrugged. “Well, you never know. You may be right, might not. I guess it all just depends,” he insisted and then walked out, thinking that it was best to just leave Jean alone for now.

Even after he left, Jean was still lost in his thoughts. “The pain may be terrible…” He half-consciously rubbed the bump on his head from this morning. “…But it’s only temporary. The pain is there for a reason. It hurts because it’s real, and it matters. It’s because I love him so much.” He walked over to the closet, and right when he opened it, he saw the portrait that he did of Marco almost a week ago.

He’d give anything to see that confident face again. To see him at his finest and that he indeed embraces his own beauty and feels such trust towards Jean. And the evidence that he had of that was this painting where he could see every inch of him that he had already memorized.

He felt the background of the dried campus slowly. “When I look into his eyes, whether he’s smiling or not, I feel at ease. The pain withers away… I feel home.” He smiled softly. “I will never stop loving him. My heart won’t let me. No matter how hard it is to think about or say, I won’t ever leave him behind. I can’t. Because the love that we both feel is real.” Sitting down, he put the portrait back in its hiding place, leaning against the door after he closed the closet. “I will show him and remind him of the love I have for him every single day… for as long as I live.”

\--

 _The ride back from therapy was_ rather eventful. Marco was able to come in the day after he called, so he got to sit down, introduce himself to Dr. Mike Zacharius, and find out how to improve on his adjustment to every day life. And for the first session, he was already growing to like him. He was easy-going and friendly, and he had just the right answers that he needed for the day. The phone call the day before definitely eased some tension from him already, and he was sure that he was going to like going to him for help.

However on the ride home he was thinking back to what they talked about today. He thought about the different questions he asked. And he showed him his journal, seeing that on the day before he had said Jean was going to turn down a job in New York because he wanted to stay down in Miami with him.

 _“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, Dr. Zacharius,”_ he had told him softly.

 _“Marco, you can call me Mike if you wish to.”_ Marco ended up not doing that anyways.

_“I really think that Jean should take that job. I mean, it’s really important for him, and it will allow him to become more successful in his career.”_

_“Do you want to bring that up with him?”_ _Dr. Zacharius then asked as he was watching Marco look around the room again at the rather spacious room._

 _“I do,”_ Marco ended up repeating out loud as he was driving, tempted to wipe his eyes but scared to look away from the road. _“I don’t want to be a burden to him.”_

But that was when his therapist then assured him “ _No, no you’re not a burden. It is evident that Jean enjoys being able to look after you and just wants you to be happy, and you shouldn’t bring yourself down because he made the choice to be here with you,”_ but Marco couldn’t bring himself to believe his kind words.

Marco blinked and turned down the street.

 _“Do you think that… if I were to really want to bring this up, and want to talk to him about this, should I?_ ”

 _“Of course,” Dr. Zacharius insisted, rubbing his small beard a bit in thought. “You are in a relationship with him, and with being in a relationship, there is also a matter of communicating with each other to make sure that the two of you are on the same page. Just like any other relationship._ ”

_Marco lowered his head. “The only problem here is that in other relationships, they both remember each other every day and don’t have to reintroduce themselves just to get a proper ‘I love you’ out of them.”_

_“I understand what’s going on in your mind right now,” he said as he noticed Marco hyperventilating, staring down at his feet, digging his fingers into his hair and trying to take a hold of something but finding that leverage in his scalp. “But if you think that you need to voice that he should go take then job, then do it. Your opinion is just as important as everyone else’s. Don’t be afraid to talk to him.”_

He slowly pulled into the driveway and looked over at the mailbox. _608 Trost Drive._

 _“So what happens if I tell him that he should go and take it?”_ Marco slowly walked up to the door. _“What do I say? How do I go about this?”_

_“Just do what you think will be the best for you.”_

Marco slowly knocked on his door.

_“Dr. Zacharius… I think it would just be easier on the two of us if I let him leave for New York and walk out of my life.”_

_“Think about that decision, Marco. Are you sure that you want to do that? If that is your ultimatum, there is no going back on it.”_

Footsteps approached the door. He took a deep breath just as the knob turned.

_I’m sure._

Jean answered the door and gave Marco a smile. “Hey… How’d it go?”

Marco walked in and mirrored his smile, although on the inside, there was still so much bothering him. Everything that he needed to talk to him about. It was a little hard to bring up now that he thought about it. “It went pretty well,” he said. “Dr. Zacharius is very nice, and he helped me with a lot of questions that I had.”

“That’s great.” He rubbed his shoulder and then leaned closer to kiss him.

But Marco didn’t kiss him back.

With that he pulled away from his lips, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Marco? Hey… What’s the matter?”

“Listen Jean, there’s something that I want to talk to you about.” Marco took a deep breath. “I know about the job offer in New York City.”

He stiffened. “How?”

“I overheard you talking about it with my parents yesterday when I went out of the room,” he explained. “And I think that you should take the job.”

“Wait, Marco—”

“Before you say anything, just listen for a second,” he interrupted. “You need the money. You’re more than qualified to take the job. And I think it is best for you to get by instead of staying down in Miami because of me.”

Jean swallowed and felt like there was a giant lump in his throat. He shook his head. "But I want to stay here with you. I want to be with you, not up in the city. There’s a reason why I came to live down here, and there’s no point in going back.”

“There is if you have a job opportunity like this one,” he argued. “That is more important, and you need to focus on that.”

“I don’t want to go there when you are down here.” He took his hands, intertwining their fingers. “I’m here with you, Marco. I love you.”

The wince was audible between Marco’s teeth, and that made Jean nervous. He did love him… right? After all he confessed to him first.

“Jean.” He blinked back the tears. This was much more painful that he thought it would be. “Jean, here’s the thing. By doing this… you going to New York I mean, I actually want you to move on with your life. You know… as if we’ve never met.”

The blow from that sentence was so severe. Jean could feel it hit him from all sides. The wait of that last sentence was enough to bring him to his knees. This wasn’t happening. Marco was not telling him this. There was no way.

“Marco… why?” There was a tremor in his voice that he didn’t realize was there. And it only got worse as he tried to talk more. “Please… I love you, Marco.”

“I know you do,” he rasped. “But Jean, it’s so much better that way. Trust me.”

He shook his head. “Don’t do this, we can work through this relationship together.” He didn’t want to seem desperate, but it was too late to stop his voice from cracking once he spoke. “You have Dr. Zacharius. He can help you better than I ever could, and we can all do this together. We don’t have to split up like this Marco, please.”

“Jean, do not make this harder than it has to be.” Marco refused to look at him for the moment. “Besides, you’ve done way too much for me, and it’s holding you back. And I’m such a terrible person to you, you know that? I hit you on the head with a lacrosse stick the morning after our first time.” He only knew that from his journal, and talking it over with his therapist. He felt such secondhand guilt from doing that to Jean.

“Marco…” He was going to ask how he knew that, but he just wanted to convince him that it was nothing. “Listen, I don’t blame you or anything for that. And I don’t take it to heart, I know that it was just for self-defense,” he insisted. “I don’t take it personally!”

“But it still happened. I still did that, and it's inexcusable.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t understand, you’re such an amazing guy, and you probably deserve so much better.”

“Hell no.” His fists clenched. “Don’t you start with that. There is no one else I’d rather be with, I can promise you that.” He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say in response, but he hoped that would suffice.

All Marco could offer Jean was a sad smile. “You say that today. But what about tomorrow? Or the next day? Or the day after that? You’d eventually get sick of this.”

“That is not going to happen. Marco, _trust me_ on this. I will never get sick of it.”

The only thing Marco gave him after that was a shrug. Then silence.

“Marco, please….” Jean was on the brink of tears now. This couldn’t happen. He didn’t know what he would do.

“I know what I’m doing Jean,” he said softly. “I have the right to make my own decisions, right? And I want you to be able to have that job and make something out of yourself.” He scratched his arm. His heart was really aching, more than he thought. “You did so much for me, Jean. Way too much, come to think of it. And this is my way of… saying thank you. Thank you for helping me. For convincing my parents to get me on the right track instead of having to repeat my sister’s birthday every day. Thank you for teaching me how to live again. And now, I want you to go ahead and do the same thing. I want you to live.”

Jean shook his head. “But I _am_ living. When I’m with you, everything feels… i-it feels so complete.”

“Let me repay you somehow.” He bit his lip. “You sacrificed a lot, and I don’t want you to hold yourself back anymore. And if that means that we have to break apart, then so be it. It’s going to be much easier, and so much healthier, for the both of us. I swear it.”

As much as he wanted to beg _no Marco_ and _please don’t do this,_ he knew that it was in Marco’s best interest. He wanted to do this, and he thought that this was going to be better for them, but honestly Jean wasn’t sure anymore. Even if this meant that their relationship is ending, he trusted Marco’s judgment. Maybe… maybe it really was for the best.

He gave him a very reluctant nod. “…Okay. Okay, Marco. If that is what you really want, then… then I’ll take that job, okay?”

Marco nodded. Why was he smiling? Deep down inside he was mirroring Jean’s gripping pain. He went and slowly took his hand. “Thank you, Jean.” He looked down. “There is just one more thing now.”

“And what’s that?”

“Tonight… Can you come with me to my house? I need to take care of some things there, and I need your help in order to get myself settled.”

Jean was a little reluctant. “Yeah… sure.”

“Thank you so much.” He smiled again, but his mouth was hurting every time he quirked his lips up. This was so painful. “I’ll see you there then.” He walked out to get to his car.

After he left Jean looked over at his studio. That was when the tears started to fall, the dam broken. The first thing he did was go to his laptop, opening up his e-mail, letting Nile know that he was going to take the job after all. Then after he’d help Marco with this job, he needed to pack… again.

“It’s all for the best,” he kept telling himself. “It’s for the best, Jean. This will be good for you. Trust him.”

He was trying so hard to, but at the same time it was hurting way too much for him to completely grasp onto the situation. He didn’t want to do this. He really didn’t.

He didn’t want to leave home.

\--

 _Jean showed up at Marco’s house_ an hour later. They didn’t do much talking as they went upstairs. Marco looked so sure of himself. So serious.

“So this thing that I want you to help me with… it’s going to take a little while,” he said.

“It’s not a problem,” Jean assured him, realizing that this was going to be his last day with him and wanting to make every minute count. “Do you want me to remake that video for you?”

“Dad and Pa are going to take care of that.” The two of them sat down on the bed as Marco fished through his nightstand drawer. He then pulled out a small book. “I have this… this journal that I need help going through.”

Jean stared at it. “You have a journal?”

He nodded. “I got it so that I can see in my own words what happens day by day,” he smiled. “And I have a lot of things in it. But, I want to look through it so that it looks cleaner the next time I read it, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” Jean took it slowly and flipped open to the page.

 

_July 5, 2014_

_I decided that I was going to make this journal today. I just found out today that on February 17 th 2012, I got hit in a car accident that makes me have a short-term memory span of only twenty four hours. Every morning I wake up thinking that it is February 17th 2012, but as you can see from the top of the page, it is over two years later since the accident._

_There was this new method that my family made along with this man I just met today. It was through a DVD that explained everything to me, and all the events that had happened in the world since my accident. I think that it’s very effective, and Pa said that it was the first time that I saw the video._

_But I have a feeling that this journal might be an extra boost for me, you know? I want to be able to see in my own words what I experience every day, so that I have something to look back on. This is only a test run for now, but I have a feeling that if this turns into a diary, I might have to throw it away and just forget the idea._

_I’m kidding, I probably would still keep it. Well, I’ll never know now, will I? I suppose that if future me is reading this right now, I didn’t throw it away. So cool. This is going to be really weird for me to be honest, but I’m giving this a chance…._

_…Jean and I had our first kiss on the beach today. It was really sweet to be honest, but I think that we probably were just a little nervous, because holy cow my heart was pounding so fast. I think his was too. I mean, his face was pretty red afterwards…._

Jean had to turn the page. All of these sweet memories from this summer with Marco were brutally coming back to him like a raging flood.

 

_July 23, 2014_

_You’ll never believe what happened today. I found the note that you left on my desk. You know the one with Jean’s address on it and everything. And I did it. I went to his house. And I did a nude commission. And it was the best decision I ever made._

_You know something? I never thought that he was going to be this sweet about painting a picture of my naked body. He was so professional, and he cared so much about me and how I was feeling. You know what? I really trust this guy. I could cry right now, this is such a huge revelation for me. This guy… Jean Kirschtein. He is such an incredible person, and he really does care about me, I know it—_

“…This journal has a lot of stuff with me in it. Doesn’t it?”

A pause followed. “Yeah. A lot.”

“I figured,” he said softly. “I probably spent too much time with you this summer, huh?”

“Probably,” Marco chuckled. He held the journal and flipped through a couple of the pages. “Here’s what I want you to help me with. I… see that paper shredder over there by my desk?”

Jean’s entire body went stiff. He didn’t want to look at the shredder, and yet there it was. Waiting for them on the other side of the room. “…I do.”

“I wanna take the pages that have you in it… And we're going to shred them. Okay? I need your help sorting through them.”

Was there such thing as a heart shredder? Because Jean’s was heading right down it. “W-what are you going to think if you see the gaps in the pages?”

“I don’t know,” He said softly. “I’m going to make a reminder for myself to get the pages that remain typed out, so…” He opened it up again. “So, every entry or page with you in it goes in the shredder. Okay?”

Jean was reluctant to nod. He didn’t want to do this. Every ounce of muscle in his body was telling him no, no, _no you can’t do this, Jean!_ But his mind was doing what they all knew was best. When they both walked up to the desk, he ignored every protest in his hands as they looked through that little book and he himself would tear out a page that talked about their relationship. His hand would shake as he moved the page to the shredder, sure. But he ignored all protests while he watched his hand mechanically put it through, hearing the shredder rev to life while Marco said goodbye to that little reminder.

Their first kiss was gone. The time that they both shotgunned weed when sitting at that campfire on the beach was gone. Those motorcycle rides, the brownie taste testing, the simple little things in their relationship. The time that Marco went to Jean’s house and did that commission for him… Their first time.

It was all gone. It all went through the shredder and there was no way to get them back. No way for Marco to ever look back at them now that he fed that infernal machine and the shards were sitting inside and taunting Jean. It told him, “This was everything that kept your love alive. Here it is now. You’re never getting this back.” And he was too scared to face that cold, hard truth.

And all Marco could do when he looked at Jean was a fake smile. “Well… that’s that.”

“…Yeah.” Jean lowered his head. He kept looking at those shards of paper. “I’m glad that I was able to help you out.”

“It really was such a big help that you did that. Thank you,” Marco said softly.

“No problem.”

They looked into each other’s eyes once more. This was them now. This was the end. And tomorrow, Marco was going to start going through life like everything this summer didn’t happen. And Jean was going to start all over again and move to New York City.

 _It’s for the best…_ He kept telling himself in his head. _It is all for the best._

They got up from where they were at the desk. Marco held out his hand, the smile on his face looking a little more genuine.

“Thank you, Jean,” he whispered. “Thanks for everything. I can only imagine that this summer has been a lot of fun.”

Jean looked at his hand and forced himself to shake it. “You’re welcome, Marco. And... thank you for making this summer the best time of my life.”

Marco blinked. “There will be plenty more times where you'll have even better memories.”

That wasn’t possible. Everything that he was and everything he believed in lied solely on this one summer. This wonderful, fantastic summer with the man that he had wanted to spend forever falling in love with over and over again. But now he had to think of a new dream, live a new life. Have a new ambition.

He just took his hand, robotically shaking it. But as he held his warm hand he found himself holding it tighter as their fingers intertwined once more. The gap between them was much too large, and he didn’t hesitate as he quickly closed it by pulling Marco close. He wanted their last moments together to have some meaning to it, before Jean would have to tell stories about this summer using the phrase “my ex” instead of “my boyfriend” and “my lover.”

_My home._

He sealed a silent promise to Marco with a kiss. He was going to miss his soft lips. He was going to miss the way that Jean hummed against them when he was doing everything right. He will definitely miss the way that they quickly held onto each other when they were getting more intimate in the kiss. The way that they both knew exactly what made each other arch closer and where to touch to evoke the prettiest noises.

Their last kiss was filled will muffled whimpers, streaking tears, and curled fingers grasping at each other’s shirts. A bittersweet atmosphere as they whined each other’s names and tears were starting to soak their ways down to as far as their necks. Shivers running down spines, breaths hitching and sobs exhaling.

One last kiss for good measure. And then another because that last one was not good enough. Jean kissing away salty tears. Marco shaking his head and whimpering _“Please, please don’t make this harder than it has to.”_ But with every minute that passes it gets even more difficult.

They were reluctant to pull away from each other. Jean kept trying to protest against his feet that were already guiding him to the door without so much as a decent "goodbye." His hand did the opening and closing for him, and his ears managed to eventually block out the sobbing that was coming from behind the not-so thick door. The stairs seemed even more complicating to get down from, and the ride back home on his Harley seemed even more dangerous than before.

Saying goodbye was always hard. But this silent farewell and knowing he could never look back was the hardest decision that Jean had ever made.

\--

 _The rental car was already packed._ So was the U-Haul that was hitched to the back of it. His Harley surprisingly managed to fit inside it even with all the shit from his studio.

When he said goodbye to Connie and Sasha, they were sad, sure. But he could tell Sasha was happy that they could turn what was his studio into their new game room. It was good that they were able to make do, then. Eren assured him that they could still stay in touch while he went back up north again. All of his new friends seemed supportive of his decision to get out of here yet again.

Jean wanted to stop by Braun’s Pastries one last time to have some muffins for the road, and say goodbye to Reiner before he’d go on his way.

Before he’d never see Marco again.

Being inside that bakery was so painful. He just stood by the counter and waited for his muffins to be ready. And all the while he kept looking over and saw Marco absentmindedly decorating a batch of cupcakes for a child’s birthday party. He was smiling. That smile that he wore the first time he saw him. That first day that he bumped into him while Connie was waiting on his pumpernickel bread.

“Your muffins, Jean.”

Taken out of his trance, Jean looked up and nodded as he took the paper bag. “Thanks Reiner.”

The baker watched him and sighed as he leaned closer to whisper in his ear. “Thank you so much for everything that you have done for Marco. You really helped everyone around here by doing that.”

“You’re welcome,” Jean said softly. “And hey. If I ever come back down here again, I will definitely stop by. I’m really going to miss the muffins, to be honest. You’re the best at making them.”

“Why thank you,” he chuckled. He patted his shoulder. “Drive safe. You’ll be missed.”

“Yeah.” He smiled and walked to the door. “Bye.”

As the little bell rang when he opened the door to let himself out, his entire body stiffened when he could then hear the smile in Marco’s voice as he looked up to see him leave.

“Have a nice day, sir. Come again.”

How was he supposed to respond? Even with that being kept in mind he managed to whisper out a soft “You have a nice day too…” before he left.

There goes that. He had lost his home. His shelter, his balance. His rock. It was gone and its last farewell was just a cheery _Have a nice day, sir._

_Come again…._

The last words he heard from Marco was _Come again…._

Jean exhaled deeply as he started the car. He had a long ride ahead of him. As he turned on his radio he spent this time to think and reflect.

What had Jean been thinking all this time? He wasn’t homeless without Marco. This summer was just going to be a bad memory involving a man with the sweetest heart. Such a sweet… sweet heart.

“Why the fuck did this have to happen to me?” he muttered. “No not me. Why _him_? He didn’t do a damn thing wrong. He was the nicest person I’ve ever met. He’s a fucking baker for fuck’s sake. Is there something terribly sinful about making beautiful cakes and pastries?” He banged his fist on the steering wheel. “So... God, Buddha, Allah, or whoever the fuck you are. Just back off and leave Marco alone!”

He glared at the road as he accelerated once he was finally on the highway. He headed north.

“Fuck this,” he grumbled. “Fuck all of this. I’m leaving now. I’m going and now everything will be great because he doesn’t even remember me now anyways. He didn’t want to be a burden. I mean… he never was, but whatever. I’ll leave.”

_This whole shitstorm I’ve been through is over…_

“And I’m never going back.” He took deep breaths. “But… what if I end up wanting to? What if things get bad again? What if he stops believing in the videos and the journal? …What if he stops singing the song? That’s his happy song.”

He shook his head, his hands shaking at the wheel.

“So what if he’s never happy again?!” He exclaimed to himself. “Oh _wow_ , Jean. Shut the fuck up. You aren’t his only source of happiness. Stop thinking so damn highly of yourself.” He needed to tell himself this. Marco had easily gotten over him, while he thought that he was never going to be able to. “He’s better off without you. Dammit… I can’t deal with this.”

His eyes watered, and he turned up the radio. He kept mind to the speed limit, more cautious on the road now.

“Why did I have to fall in love with the one person that wouldn’t be able to remember me? The one person that wouldn’t be able to reciprocate the feelings?” He whimpered to himself. “I hate this.”

_Fuck it all._

He felt terrible already for talking like this. But it was what he could do to keep himself from turning right back around to come back to him.

This hurt him so much, yeah, but as much as he felt like home was wherever Marco was… He wasn’t homeless. That was just ridiculous. He didn’t even know why he even thought that.

The conditioning was working now. He was feeling a bit more confident about this trip he was taking. This opportunity that he had. He was stable. He was now on the road to success, and nothing was going to hold him back from it.

He was now officially on his way to New York. 


	11. Almost Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean is going to New York. Marco is officially out of his life, and all he needs to do now is relax and move on with his life, since the world isn't just going to stop for him because he is upset. He also needs to live a little. Naturally.
> 
> But sometimes, maybe a little too much "living" might take a bad turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this chapter is a little bit choppy, but I don't know. There's a lot of skipping around.  
> I just wanna take this time to THANK YOU ALL for the amount of hits and kudos this fic has received thus far. I would've never thought that would happen, and guess what. It did!
> 
> Also, a huge thank you to thcrsthry for making [this AMAZING fanart](http://thcrsthry.tumblr.com/post/100860975014/heres-what-i-want-you-to-help-me-with-i-see) during Jeanmarco Week!
> 
> You guys are so supportive and patient during this stressful semester with work and college, and I'm very grateful for that. Thank you so much.

_“I cannot go to the ocean, I cannot try the streets at night._

_I cannot wake up in the morning without you on my mind._

_So you’re gone and I’m haunted, and I bet you are just fine._

_Did I make it that easy to walk right in and out of my life?”_

-       _Almost Lover,_ A Fine Frenzy

_Jean was on the road for_ almost three days. He had taken a few rest stops because he just felt so tired and upset that he barely had the will to keep going day by day. Today at about seven in the morning, after all this time going through several states, he drove up the Jersey Turnpike. This was much more familiar to him. More welcoming, in all honesty.

It took another several hours to get to the east. Before going up to the city he wanted to make one more stop. He didn’t have to be in by the ninth anyways. He could use a long break and be reunited with his folks. He really needed their comfort more than anything.

The _Welcome to Beachwood – Help Keep Our Community Clean!_ sign right at the entrance to the borough was the most relieving sight throughout this entire trip. This was his home. His real home. He had spent his childhood in Ocean Gate, but Beachwood was where he had been throughout intermediate and high school. All of his old friends were here, even though he didn’t talk to them anymore. He knew every part of the different townships like the back of his hand.

And his parents’ house was not too far away from the intermediate school that was right on Grand Central Parkway. He pulled into that small driveway and saw that his mother was there. He did call her beforehand, but he almost felt like he was intruding. He just really needed someone now more than ever.

This was such a painful breakup. Here Jean thought that he was going to stay with Marco for the rest of his life, and now they were hundreds of miles apart and Marco had no recollection or anything to look back on to remind him of who he was, and what they used to have.

Every step to the door felt got heavier and heavier. Giant waves of exhaustion, regret, and sadness crashed over him and just wouldn’t stop, even after he knocked the door and finally let the tears that were trying to break free loose and running down his face.

His mother eventually got to the door, and at seeing her son like this, she opened her arms without thinking twice and let him cling to her as his broken sobs escaped from his tight throat. She knew what happened because of a very long phone call between the two of them when he was staying overnight in South Carolina. And she knew that all he wanted right now was to be held. No words needed, no advice. Just a good, long hug.

And it started to work like a charm as she led him upstairs to his old bedroom. She rubbed his back while he tried to wipe his soaked, puffy eyes. He had a very long trip, and he did go through a lot. She pulled the blankets down so that Jean could lay down on the bed.

“Just rest now,” she told him softly. “You had a very long journey.”

Giving her a meek nod, he nodded and had the covers up over his neck. “M-mom, what ab—”

“Just relax,” she insisted. “Take it easy.”

Just some rest… Yeah, that was all he needed. He drove all this way and barely gave himself enough time to relax. That was all he needed. Then it would stop hurting. Then he could calm down and not have to worry about dealing with such a dark week.

And so he did, just hoping that it will get better.

No. It _was_ going to get better.

\--

 _That first day he arrived back_ in his hometown he spent it in bed. He refused to get up from it and didn’t want anything to do with anyone. Not even his mother, bless her heart. But the second day was when he emerged, and he spent some of his time helping his mother around the house with the cleaning. It was a small step, but he needed to calm himself down so that he could be able to transition working in the city without being such a nervous wreck.

“I think I’m gonna go to the beach today,” he said softly as they were eating lunch.

“That sounds good,” she insisted. “It’s a very nice day outside. When do you have to leave again?”

“The ninth.” His voice was still as soft as earlier. “Where do you think I should go?”

“Well, Seaside is always there,” she smiled. “But if you’re really up for it, you could always go to Ocean City.”

“Nah, I’ll stick to Seaside. Mina still works there, right?”

“Has there ever been a year where she hasn’t?” His mother was a little cheerful. He wanted Jean to socialize. Being out would help him cheer up, she was sure of it. “Go ahead and say hi. She’d be happy to see you’re here.”

“Maybe. I’d better go see her then.” He looked outside after grabbing the keys to the rental car. “I’ll see you later, I guess.”

“Remember to have a good time,” she called out. “And can you stop by the pizzeria when you get home? We can have a quick dinner tonight.”

“Sounds good!” He walked out and breathed in the fresh air. He had to admit that the Jersey breeze was much more pleasant than what it was in the city down in Florida. That made things a little more soothing in all honesty. He kept the windows rolled down as he drove down to the good old Exit 82. Maybe later on in the week he can visit Ocean Gate and go to the beach there. He missed the sand there, where he had taken his first steps trying to walk up to the pier.

He couldn’t help but feel more relaxed as the sun grew higher in the sky, and he felt more in control of his emotions. It wasn’t a complete cure, but of course it was a start.

Seaside Heights wasn’t nearly as glamorous as places that were further south. But to him, this was the greatest place on earth. The place itself went through a lot of bullshit, and it still stands strong. During high school, it was his second home.

Of course parking was always a bitch, and he had to pay for an overpriced space before getting to the boardwalk. He tried to remember which booth Mina worked at. He knew that it was further down, closer to Fun Town Pier, but… where? That was the question that was nagging at him.

He missed his childhood friend a lot. He hadn’t talked to her since he moved down to Miami. He was sure that she would be happy to see him, and maybe she could even help him out of this rut while he was here for the next few days. They were always there for each other when they were younger, after all.

He found her booth at last, and he took out five dollars before walking over. She had her nose in a pretty big book, but he was willing to take the consequence of interrupting her. He put the bill right down on the table.

“Excuse me, miss. I would like one badge, please.”

“Give me a second, sir. I’ll be right with you.” She wasn’t too good at keeping her frustration in. He must have interrupted her at a really good part. When she looked up though her dull expression changed to an excited grin. “Jean!”

“Hey, Mina,” he smiled and leaned against the counter. “What’s up?”

“I’m fine, but what brings you here?” She leaned over as well to hug him tight. “Jeez, how’ve you been? I thought you were down in Florida.”

“I was,” he admitted. “I’d been there since May, but I came back up for a job.”

She tilted her head. “Is it a boring desk job, Jean? Wow, you could’ve been relaxing in the hot sun working on your commission work, and you decide to come up just to be stuck in a cubicle? Wow, you’re smart.”

“Where is this coming from?” he laughed. “I came up because I have a job in New York City. This guy called Nile Dok wants me to be a part of his design team to advertise his company. It’s only for about three months though.”

“Well, that’s good.” Mina looked around. “I see Tweedle Dum is not here with you. Where’s Connie?”

“Down in Florida still. He’s staying there.”

“Oh, alright. Whenever you see him again, tell him that I said hi and we all miss him!” She punched his arm. “And make sure he calls too! I’m appalled that you have not once contacted me to say hi.”

Jean couldn’t help but sigh from the sudden guilt he felt. He didn’t call her once. He didn’t call _any_ of his old friends. He wondered how they were all doing since he had left. “I’m sorry… It’s been a really long few months.”

“Really?”

“Hey buddy, you’re holding up the line.”

Jean turned around after Mina had been interrupted. “I’m sorry, I’ll move I was just…” He trailed off. “Franz?”

“Jean?” Franz chuckled and gave him a bone-crushing but absolutely necessary hug. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Florida.”

“Jean got a new job up in New York City,” Mina intervened. “Guess he’s just stopping by to say hi.”

“Actually I’m here until Saturday.” Jean turned back to Franz. “Where’s the wife?”

He rubbed the back of his neck shyly. “She should be here any minute, she’s just in the bathroom.” He blinked. “Oh, Jean. Since you’re here, there’s something I gotta tell you.”

“And what might that be, Frankie?”

He cringed. “Don’t… call me that.”

“Aww Frankie!” Jean teased and pulled the other closer, ruffling his dark hair. “You’re so modest, Frankie!”

A woman came out from the bathroom, and she sighed heavily. “Franz, what are you doing?”

The two men looked up, and of course Jean smiled again at seeing another familiar face. “Hey, Hannah!”

“Why didn’t you tell me Jean was back?” Hannah nudged her husband before rushing over. “Hi! Welcome home.” She hugged him close.

 _Home…_ The word still stung like a festering wound. As Jean hugged her he noticed something different and stepped back. The first thing he noticed right away was her swelling middle. “Wow, Hannah!”

“That’s what I wanted to tell you.” Franz stepped in to hold Hannah. “We’re having a baby.”

He gaped at them. “I—wow!” he smiled. “Hey, congratulations.”

“Thanks.” They both said together and held hands. They smiled.

“I’m five months along,” Hannah then said. “We have almost everything ready.”

Jean nodded. “That’s really great to hear… Really.” He didn’t really feel as pleased as he looked. He couldn’t help but feel a little envious. Hannah and Franz had been high school sweethearts. They got married after college, and now they are having their first kid. It was the picture perfect romance that most people can only dream of.

On the other hand, the first serious relationship that he ever attempted crashed and burned before he could help support the foundation. He lowered his head.

“…Jean?” Franz waved his hand in front of his face slowly. “Jean, are you alright?”

What if Jean wanted to marry Marco? What if he wanted to eventually have children? What if he wanted to grow old with him? These questions slowly turned from “what if” to “so what if I didn’t?” At the moment he couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or not.

“Jean!”

He suddenly felt the impact of Mina’s book collide with his head, and it made him jump from being startled. He quickly looked over with narrowed eyes. “Hey!”

“We were trying to get your attention for the past two minutes.” Mina knew that something had happened in Florida. He was just about to admit that something did just now, if Franz and Hannah hadn’t interrupted them. “What’s wrong, Jean? What happened down in Florida?”

Hannah looked up. “Something happened in Florida?”

“What happened in Florida?”

“Guys…” Jean groaned and leaned further against Mina’s booth. “It’s… kind of a long story, to tell you the truth.”

“I’m in the mood for a long story that takes place in the present.” Mina put her book away. Franz and Hannah paid for their beach badges for the day as well.

Jean looked at them and inhaled silently to try and keep his misty eyes from betraying him. “Well… it all started when I visited this little bakery that my parents always took me to whenever we went down to Miami during the summer…”

\--

 _Of course Jean cried while he_ was trying to explain to his old friends what happened with a sweet cake decorator that was currently trying very hard to recover while having no idea Jean even existed. God, as he was hiding his face in Hannah’s shoulder and feeling her hand gently run down his back, he thought about how soft Marco’s smile was. He thought about his deep voice and that sexy tongue piercing, and his tattoos and that sweet, smoky smell he had that he loved so much.

There was no way that he couldn’t cry after his mind had wandered that deep into the abyss. It was too soon. And the three of them talked to him through that pain, through that dark time he was having right now. He needed to clean up his act before he had to go to New York. He’d probably get fired within the first few days if he kept this behavior up.

“Jean, you know that you’ve done everything you could, right?” Hannah said softly. “Sure, you might not be with him now, but you helped him so much, and his family too.”

“I know,” he murmured against the fabric of her sleeve. “But I can’t help but be selfish. I just… thought that maybe we could still be together. I never thought that he would end it completely.”

Mina took his hand. “Listen. He’s happy, and he would want you to be happy too,” she insisted. “You’ve done well. But… and you know I hate to say this, it is time for you to move on. The world is not going to stop for you because you are upset, you know?”

He gave her a small nod. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“There’ll be another person,” Franz assured him. “Believe me. There are many others that would love to be with you.”

“You think so?”

“Jean, there are like, fifty thousand people residing around Madison Square Garden each day alone.” Mina smiled. “There’s gotta be one person there that will find you appealing.”

“Well, thanks.” He rolled his eyes and wiped his tears away. “Really, this all means a lot. I guess I just gotta use most of this time to recover.”

“Sounds like you were head over heels for this guy,” Hannah sighed. “It’ll get better, I promise.”

Jean nodded. “Thank you.” He then finally got his beach badge for today. “It was really nice seeing you guys again.”

“Same about you,” Franz smiled. “Don’t be a stranger, okay? Stop by the house any time to say hi, or give us a call.”

“And you’d better stop by to visit the baby!” Hannah pressed with a smile as the couple held hands. “Good luck in the city!”

He smiled and watched them go. “Yeah,” he called after them. “And good luck with the baby.”

They soon left and were walking along the beach holding hands and staring out at the coming tide. They were so perfect that Jean wanted to throw up again. He kept it in though and looked at Mina. She was going back to reading her book, but he interrupted her again just one more time.

“Hey, when do you get off of work?” he asked. “Mom and I are having pizza if you wanna come over.”

“Like old times?” she smiled after saving her page with a pencil. “Of course! I miss your mom, by the way. Probably miss her more than I missed you.”

“That’s very comforting to know,” he mumbled. He knew that it was all for shits and giggles, and they both laughed at their own petty comments. “So I’ll see you around?”

“I’m _always_ around!” she laughed and Jean took off his shoes. He hurried onto the beach to sink his toes into the sand, to feel the sudden chill of the ocean. To kiss his fears goodbye as he shouted at the distance that he was here.

He was home.

\--

 _Jean got to Ocean Gate before_ sunrise. He parked along the street not too far away and walked over to the pier. He saw the gentle waves coming in, heard the gulls in the distance fighting over who got the latest find in their scavenger hunt. The warm colors coming in from the sun’s rays soothed him, and he breathed in the salty air. The perfect cure.

It had been a very long week, and just like he had been dreading, today he had to drive up to New York so that he could be settled before his first day of work tomorrow. The ground he treaded on was much steadier. He felt a little surer of himself now that he had recovered enough to not blubber like a baby by the mentioning of a few too familiar words.

He wasn’t _happy_ with the way things were right then, but it was a start. Now he felt that he was okay to pick up where he left off and start on his job. It was all he could do at this point. Jean breathed in deeply once more before letting it out in a sigh. He was okay… hurt, but he will live. He probably would still be a wreck if it weren’t for his family.

The sound of his phone disrupted the peace. He groaned and took it out to answer it. “Yeah?”

“Hi, I’m just checking on your to see how you’re doing.” It was his mother. “You weren’t in your room.”

“Yeah I know, I’m at Ocean Gate,” he murmured. “I’m just taking a breather before I have to leave later.”

“I see,” she said on the other end. “Your father called to check on you. Are you gonna talk to him later?”

Jean looked down and had to think. He hadn’t seen his father since his parents divorced. That was part of the reason why they sold the summer house, actually. He forgot where he was now… Myrtle Beach? Tahiti? Some kind of beach area where it was warm. “Yeah… let him know I’ll talk to him when I get to New York.”

“Alright. Don’t forget to take the rest of your boxes out of your room.”

It was just a simple request, but that one word made him cringe. _Forget…_ He couldn’t _forget_ to not get his boxes. Maybe he could misplace them or not recall that he had them in his room still. But he couldn’t physically forget it.

Marco actually _forgot_ things. It wasn’t even that he simply couldn’t recall. He couldn’t remember. It was very unfair that his mother used such a seemingly simple word when she had absolutely no idea what it was like to really forget. To really not know where something is or who someone was or what day it even was.

“Jean?”

He stiffened and looked out at the water hearing his mother’s voice again. She seemed to sound concerned again.

“Jean, are you there? You okay?”

He regained focus and cleared his throat. “Mhm yeah… I’m fine, Mom.”

“Alright, I thought I lost you there.” Her chuckle is almost painful for him to hear. “When you get back, make sure that you eat something before you leave.”

“Of course,” he said. “Food at rest stops are way too fucking expensive.”

“Language, young man.”

“Mom, I’m twenty-four.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, sweetie.”

He hung up and looked at the sand below, crossing his legs and leaning against the edge of the pier.

“…Bye.”

\--

 _He drove for what felt like_ hours. The lights around him illuminated the road and the endless traffic in front of him.

“God, where the hell is that apartment building?” he grumbled and looked around once he was forced to a complete stop with a trail of cars in the front and a caboose in the back. “Okay… I’m looking for Bowery Place… and a place to park.”

He groaned and scanned the skyscrapers after the car was finally able to move a whopping half of an inch. The only reason why he was going to such a pricey hotel was because Hitch offered to pay for the first month of rent to help him get started. That was a pretty nice deal, in his opinion. Hitch was too generous. He then turned on East First Street and looked up.

“Yes!” he grinned at seeing the large apartment building. “Found it.” He drove up to it. “ _And_ they have garage parking! Fantastic!” Jean pulled in and took a deep breath, and he parked with the U-Haul trailer right behind him. “I’m so glad Hitch thought of this place. I heard they have WiFi too. That’s perfect.”

Jean got out with a couple of his bags from the trailer, and he stepped inside. He looked around the lobby.

“Wow, this is a lot different than the beach house,” he gasped. He walked up to the front desk. “Excuse me, I would like to book a room.”

“Do you have a reservation, sir?” the woman mumbled in response.

“Uh actually, can I speak to the landlord possibly?”

“Rico, he’s with me.” Suddenly an arm draped around Jean’s shoulder. “He’s gonna be in my room.”

“Alright, Miss DeLiss.”

Jean turned his attention to the girl that just spoke, and suddenly her face was very familiar. “Hey, Jean. Glad you could make it.”

“…Hitch?” He smiled slowly. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” she insisted. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be able to pay for a room here for the first month of your stay. The second month we are splitting the rent, got it?”

“But I thought you lived in Buffalo.”

“I grew up in Buffalo. I moved down here a little while ago. I guess to be more involved and actually have a stable job.” She chuckled and gave him a spare room key that she had for him. “Now you have better, unlimited access to Bowery Place.”

“I hope it’s not too much trouble,” he said. “Why are you helping me so much?”

“The minute I saw you on Memorial Day weekend, I knew that you had a lot of potential. Uncle Nile is glad that you are working on his team. He really needed a certified graphic designer.”

“Oh god, I should’ve known you meant _certified_.” Of course Jean was teasing. “Well, that’s a _lot_ of gas money down the toilet right there. Sorry about mooching four thousand dollars off you. I am forever in your debt.”

“You bet your ass you are,” she smirked. “Now come up to the room. I’ll help you get settled up there.”

“Okay.” He walked over to the elevator. “Thank you so much for this, really.”

“Any time, Jean.” She waved him off, and he was already zipping up several stories high. With an outrageous view at the floor he was staying in and the spacious apartment that he was going to call home for the next few months, he could tell already that he was going to thoroughly enjoy this.

Hitch helped him get into the room, since his hands were kinda full. “I had a spare room after my roommate moved out a few weeks ago,” she said. “That’s also how I was able to get you up here.” She took him through the small hall and into a bedroom with nothing in it but a bed and a dresser. “This is where you will be staying.”

“That’s perfect, thanks.” Jean put his bags down on the bed. “It’s just gonna take a while to get everything up here from my car.”

“Like I said. I’ll help you.” She walked out of the room. “Let’s go then!”

An hour. It took an hour to get all of his stuff inside. The _boxes._ The whole unpacking part took a little bit longer, but Jean did that by himself. He preferred that more, since Hitch was busy with her own plans for the night, like inviting a couple friends over. He just stayed in his room, even though she tried insisting that he should hang out with them for a little bit. Nope. He was too focused. If he didn’t unpack now, he would never get it done.

And after that he did as he told his mom earlier. He called his father. It felt a little weird at first, but he figured that he’d give it a try.

“Hello?”

He took a shaky breath. “Hey, Dad.”

“Jean?” He definitely sounded a little surprised at hearing he was calling him. “How are you? Your mother said that you’re leaving Jersey today.”

“I already left,” he sighed. “I’m in my new apartment now. My friend helped me out. The same one that gave me this job.”

“What’s her name again? Hutch?”

“ _Hitch,_ ” he groaned. “My boss is her uncle.”

His father laughed nervously. “Sorry. Wrong vowel.” He sighed on the other end. “So… your mom also told me that you went through a really bad breakup recently.”

It wasn’t like he was going to try and get his father’s advice. Why did he know before he even got the chance to talk to him about it? “Why did Mom tell you?”

“Just because we’re divorced, doesn’t mean we don’t talk to each other. Mostly about you, by the way,” he said.

“How comforting…”

“Right?” He paused. “So how bad was it?”

Jean groaned. “There were a lot of tears, broken words, and occasionally I found simple words triggering. How bad do you think it was?”

“Jesus, Jean…” His father sighed. “Are you better now? Considering you’re starting your job soon, I mean.”

“I’m fine now.” That wasn’t exactly a lie. “Thanks for checking on me, but I think I’m okay. It was a really bad breakup, yeah, but I’ll live.”

It seemed sincere enough that his dad accepted his answer. “Alright. I’ll take it. You can call me whenever you need to talk to me. You know that, right? Just because I’m in Atlanta, doesn’t mean that I’m totally unreachable.”

So _that_ was where he was. He would’ve never had guessed. But at least it was somewhere warm. So that much was correct. Not like it really mattered. “I know, Dad,” he finally mumbled in response. “Thanks. Now, I’d better tell Hitch I’m still alive. She’s trying to throw a housewarming party for me with a couple of buddies… Even though this is still her apartment to begin with.”

“Alright. I’ll talk to you soon then.”

“Yeah…” He looked down. “Bye.”

He hung up and shook his head. Well, at least that was _some_ kind of form of advice. More or less a nudge forward and offering unnecessary condolences. Oh well. Jean got up to join Hitch in her little gathering.

Hitch looked up and smiled. “Perfect. Jean, these are my friends Marlowe and Boris. Guys, this is Jean.”

“Hi,” Jean said softly, and of course Marlowe and Boris were much more welcoming. He awkwardly shook hands with them before sitting down in one of the chairs.

He let them do the talking mostly, just observing them and seeing how they were like. Wondering if he would really like them or not. They’re friends with Hitch, so that was a good start. It was true that what he really needed to do right now was relax and live a little. So he was going to try that.

Slowly but surely, he will. But what would happen if he tried to “live a little” too much?

\--

 _This fucking job. This incredible but_ cringe-worthy fucking job was going to be the death of Jean. His first day was terrible. He was sitting at his desktop now trying to brainstorm, but everyone else on the design team are fucking assholes.

There was Nile who, however much he liked that he took the job, was an overall awful person with _such_ a bad attitude. Not that he even meant to be that way, he just _was._ Probably because he was the design director. Then there was Auruo Bossard, his partner and a multidisciplinary designer. Their job was to come up with how the fuck they’re supposed to visually promote _King’s Guard Insurance_ without totally fucking it up.

 _This_ was they wanted him to try and advertise. Insurance. Not just any insurance. _Life_ insurance. They couldn’t try and let him advertise an overly priced line of water bottles, but no. They _had_ to choose life insurance. Sure, if he succeeded, then he was going to be highly recommended by many other companies that needed some assistance. But still. Life insurance. That reminded him that he still hadn’t gotten any, he probably should invest in some. But not fucking King’s Guard Insurance. After working on this he probably wouldn’t want to touch these policies with a pole a mile long. That was at least his opinion on it.

Auruo was great at what he did, just like Jean was. But Auruo had more experience than he did with big corporations. Meanwhile Jean’s work was much more independent and for small businesses. So that meant a giant head and a larger shoe size up his ass. So fucking what, right? At least, that was how everyone else seemed about it.

Gunther, the project coordinator of the team, was an asshole. But who wasn’t. He’d just been throwing the a-hole word around without revealing that he was actually a giant bully. Dazz was too. He worked with Gunther and was the youngest of the whole group. Jean supposed that maybe he was being teased so much because he was the new guy, but it was starting to get more bothersome than it needed to be. Dennis Eibringer knew everything there was to know about how to do great vector images but had used that knowledge against everyone with the giant gloat card. He had no people skills, Jean thought to himself.

The only person throughout this entire team that he didn’t want to stab in the throat was Petra Ral, the web developer. She was okay. She was nice. She was the only one that assured him that even though the entire team was full of giant blockheads that were too full of themselves, he was going to do just fine with a little patience. He trusted her words with caution. The other thing was that it was only his first day. Surely it would get better over time.

It didn’t.

After a week of dealing with everyone’s bullshit he was starting to wonder why the hell he took this job. It seemed like _everyone_ was against him, save for Petra. Once again, she was the only nice one. He liked her.

“Kirschtein!”

Jean jolted up at hearing Nile’s voice.

“What are you doing just sitting there?” he muttered. “We have a deadline for this assignment.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry.” He stared at Adobe Illustrator and groaned. He always hated tis program. He hated doing vector images. He tried looking over at Dennis for help. “Hey, what shapes am I supposed to be using for this area here?”

Of course, he was absolutely no help to him at all. “You’re supposed to be certified in this. You figure it out yourself.”

“But Illustrator pisses me off,” he muttered.

“It pisses _everyone_ off,” Auruo groaned. “What difference does it make?”

“It doesn’t piss me off,” Dennis gloated. Of fucking course he did.

Jean wanted to kill them. He stared at the screen in frustration for another half hour before it was time to leave.

At least it was pay day today. It’d be nice to bring home a check. Nile handed it to him after he punched out. And… wow, that was a very nice check. What did he even do to get this check? It was the amount that Reiner spent on the bakery commission, _plus_ an imaginary down payment of sorts it seemed. That was a nice, _very_ nice check.

Oh well. At least Jean got money out of doing this bullshit job with bullshit people that he hoped to god he would never see again after the end of this project. Yeah, he wasn’t going to stay with this company after this. He made that decision the first day. Pay was good, but not good enough to keep him here. At least he thought so. Connie begged to differ when he called him earlier. Then he told him about how awful the people were there and he realized that maybe not staying there was good for his sanity. At least he had this voice of reason back at Florida to get him through the horrifying background noises of the city at night and the overwhelming traffic jams in the morning.

By the way, he did tell Connie to call Mina. Whether he really did or not, he still didn’t know. But judging that he did not hear anything from her, he probably didn’t. He really didn’t have any control in that.

After getting back to the apartment he groaned heavily, which was Hitch’s signal to emerge from her bedroom.

“What’s up, Buster?”

“I’m starting to regret taking this job. Again,” he sighed.

“Wow. I am hurt,” she teased and patted a spot on the couch for him. “How long has it been since you had a cigarette.”

Oh, that was right. He smoked. Maybe that was why his body was screaming at him to relax. He needed his nicotine. “Since I got here. Last week.”

“Oh, honey.” Hitch grabbed a pack and a lighter from a drawer in the kitchen. “You need these.”

“You already know me so well.” His laughter was dry as he lit it and took a drag. He sighed deeply. “That’s much better.”

Hitch looked at him closely. “Your face looks so empty without those piercings.”

“I know, it sucks.” Jean had to take them off in order to start working there. It was all about image. And he guessed that wearing thirteen piercings was not going to set a good image for marketers that will soon come and see what exactly they had to offer with this insurance company.

He knew squat about life insurance. He was just the one advertising the fucking logo. That was all. But Nile still told him to take them off. He called bullshit to that but didn’t want to get fired either way. He still kept his clavicles on. Those were staying on whether Nile liked it or not.

“My patience just is getting tried every single fucking day,” Jean muttered and inhaled from the cigarette again. “It’s like they _want_ me to be miserable there. Can you believe that?”

“My uncle is not exactly a nice guy,” she admitted. “But if this works, you’ll get excellent credentials.”

“Which was why I took the job in the first place.” Part of the reason. He sighed deeply. “I just wanna paint. I hate vector images but that’s all this company does. It’s way too complicating for me.”

“And I’m guessing they don’t help you there either.”

“I mean, I took courses on this in college, but I never really put it to practice after I graduated. I saw no need to.” Jean leaned back. “Everyone that I worked for seemed to like my raster images. They were also small business though, and they were a bitch to pull off.”

“I’m sure.” She patted his shoulder. “You’re doing great. My uncle would not have hired you and kept you here so far if he didn’t like you, okay?”

He shrugged. “I guess you’re right.” He glanced at the window. “I just wish that he didn’t make me take off my piercings. Son of a bitch.”

“You’ll live,” she grinned. “You don’t have to have them on all the time.”

“Yes, I do.” Jean fucking _pouted_. “It’s my statement. I’m too much of a wimp to get tattoos, so I have these piercings.”

Hitch nodded and crossed her legs. “Mhm yeah. Cool story. The origin is _almost_ as complex as your realization that you smoke cigarettes.”

“My mind is an enigma.” He took another long drag and sighed out the smoke. “I feel better. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, my dear.” She patted his shoulder. “Now relax. And another thing. This is New York City. You should really go on the town sometime.”

Jean blinked. “But I don’t like people.”

“Wow, rude—“

“ _Too many_ people,” he groaned. “Too many people, I rephrased it. ‘Kay?”

“That sounds better,” Hitch smiled. “I’m going in the shower.”

Jean nodded. As soon as she left he propped his feet up on the coffee table. “I’ll see you soon, sweetums.”

She laughed. “Love you.”

After there was silence in the room he breathed in more of the smoke he had been inhaling. Hitch was right. Maybe he should go out one day. Might do him some good.

He still needed to live a little. That was his general plan. Move on, continue with his career, live. He still needed to do the whole living part. Soon. Maybe in the middle of the project’s length Sometime in October, perhaps. Yeah. That seemed like a good time to go out as well.

He started building up on that plan, and then he took a nap and didn’t think about it again until a month later.

\--

 _They were now in the middle_ of the project. It was October eleventh, to be exact. Jean was so fucking tired of this, but he was managing a lot more than he did when they first started. Petra was right. With a little patience, he could get through their time together.

Auruo stared at his screen and pursed his lips. “Y’know what, I think this is the best design.”

Jean just ogled brainlessly at the intricate script of the words _King’s Guard_. “That’s the best I can do with calligraphy.”

Nile walked over to both our desktops. “Looks good.” Wow, he actually said something _nice_ about Jean’s work. Auruo spent his time working on the crown that was supposed to be somewhat aligned with the words. That was going to be the worst part. Trying to find a good fucking angle. “The calligraphy could be more stylized towards the end.”

“Noted.” He went towards the end and tried fixing it on a different layer first. This was so time consuming that he wanted to throw his computer across the room.

“Yeah, it’s a bitch to try and fix.” Dennis looked over. “Just follow the same trail as the original words. Then improvise to make it seems like it was a good revision.”

“Lemme guess, you do that all the time?”

“How do you think I still have these credentials without any mistakes to my name?” he grinned and looked back at his screen.

Petra looked up from her station. “Hey guys, we’ve been working way too hard on this. I say let’s celebrate tonight.”

“Doing what?” Gunther seemed very interested already.

“Not much. We can just go to a bar and have a few drinks. Sound like a plan?”

“Can we go to a bar that actually makes those fruity drinks?” Dazz called. “Unlike last time?”

“Sure Dazz, whatever your little heart desires,” Auruo muttered but did not look away from his screen. “I just need to fix this angle here, and it’s a bitch.”

“Try rotating another thirty degrees.” Jean watched him do so. “That way it’s not too straight.”

“Kinda regal looking,” Dennis admitted.

“Yeah it is,” Auruo mused. “Thanks a lot, Jean.”

“No problem.” He eased his way into the group and now was being treated more as an equal. This was a good day.

Their boss overlooked their work again one last time. “Looks like we can call it a day. Go home, ladies.”

Clocking out was easy. The thought of going out with his coworkers to drink a little was not. He knew quite a bit about them after working with them, but still. He never got the chance to see them outside of work.

During these past nine weeks of working with them, he found out that Petra and Auruo were actually a thing, Dennis was aromantic and asexual, and he volunteered at a soup kitchen when he wasn’t reviewing the shitload of vector images they needed to design, Gunther was a forty-year-old bachelor that was not going to settle down anytime soon, and Dazz was fresh out of college. Nile, he already knew about through Hitch. He was just an asshole.

So it wasn’t like he didn’t know them. He just didn’t _know_ them. And that was going to be a challenge to say the least. But it was a chance he was going to take. Hitch did say that he should go out and live a little, and that day was going to be today.

And that was what he told her when he got back to their apartment.

“You sure that you wanna spend all night with those guys?” Marlowe asked, since he just so happened to be in the kitchen when he got there. “I thought you said that you hated those guys.”

“I do, but maybe if I spent some time outside of work with them I’ll hate them a little less,” he said. “It might work, right?”

“Well, it’s definitely worth a shot,” Hitch insisted. “However, you are not going out dressed like _that._ ” She pointed at Jean’s suit. “Casual, please!”

“Way ahead of you.” He took out a flannel and some jeans and jumped into the shower to get ready.

\--

 _Despite Hitch telling him repeatedly not_ to put his piercings on for the night, he did anyways. Just because he worked with them did not mean that he had to keep them off when just spending time with them _outside_ of their job. When they saw him at the bar they were meeting at, they were generally surprised by how many piercings someone could fit over one eyebrow more than the ones on his ears.

“Lemme guess. You haven’t worn those since you started?”

“Correct, Auruo.” Jean sighed and sat on one of the stools. “So, when are we like, drinking?”

“We gotta wait for Dennis.” Dazz looked over at the door. “He’s on his way.”

“Cool.” He leaned against the bar as Gunther sat next to him.

Petra sighed heavily. “You _really_ brought a girl with you?”

“Yes, sassy pants.” Gunther had a woman sitting right by him, and she waved at them. “This is Eva. She was already here at the bar.” He gave Petra a look.

“So you’re all his coworkers,” Eva mused. “Nice to meet all of you.” She crossed her legs and gave Jean a smile since he had been spaced out for a few seconds.

“Too bad it’s Saturday. I would’ve made curfew jokes.” Dennis had arrived, and that was how he made his entrance. He patted Jean’s back and sat next to him. “Hey. What’s with the bling?”

“I’m living a little,” he responded. “I haven’t worn these since I started working, and my face is naked without them.”

“That’s something I’ll need to get used to,” he sighed. “So, why didn’t you guys order your drinks yet?”

“We were waiting for you, asshole,” Dazz snorted and got the bartender’s attention.

Of course Dazz got something fruity, since he said something about that earlier today. For now Jean settled with just a shot glass. He heard the music playing in the background for the people that were eating and dancing off to the side. He noticed that they were mostly playing the popular music, even though it wasn’t a nightclub. That didn’t really make a difference to him. The drinks were good.

He listened to them talk but really wasn’t part of the conversation. There were more jokes about Eva being with Gunther for the night, and Gunther kept giving them dirty looks and repeating “I am not old!” It stopped being funny for Jean after the seventh time he did that. Then there were some jokes about the King’s Guard insurance, mostly quoting Monty Python and trying to be funny about it.

That was when he realized that hey, they were all fucking dorks. That was much easier on him, since he always figured he was the biggest goober of the group. As it turned out, it was actually Dennis. He was a huge nerd, _such_ a fucking nerd. And he loved that. That allowed Jean to be sociable with at least him. Gunther’s attention was more towards the girl he brought with him than the conversations everyone else had been having all at once.

“So what are you going to do after this project, Jean?” Finally, someone acknowledged that he was here. That was Auruo who spoke.

“Hm?” He looked up from his empty shot glass. “I’m gonna move back down to Jersey.”

“Really?” Gunther scrunched up his nose and looked at Eva. “Jersey’s so trashy.”

“Hey, why don’t you say that to _my_ face?” he teased. “I can probably work for a smaller company. After this, I think anyone would hire me with that badass calligraphy I can do.”

“I gotta admit, that was impressive,” Dennis commented. “But you’re also a painter, right? Oil paints, I think you said.”

He nodded. “I did a lot of paintings and commissions when I was down in Florida.”

“Now you know you’re gonna have to show us.” Petra smirked, drinking from her shot glass.

“Yeah Jean!” Dazz slapped his back, startling him. “Or at least show us some of your online work.”

“No way, it’s embarrassing!”

Eva smiled. “You should just show them anyways,” she insisted.

Petra looked at her. “Sweetie, whenever you get the chance to, can you kick Gunther’s balls for me?”

“She wouldn’t do that!” Gunther snorted.

“Oh yeah? Eva, how old is Gunther?”

“Uh, he told me twenty-three.”

That had Petra cackling. The rest of them that knew Gunther’s real age were hysterical, confusing the poor girl. Petra shed some light on the subject by whispering in her ear that he really was forty. And Eva threw the rest of her drink at the bachelor before stamping off.

Gunther was baffled. “Hey!”

“Eva, you forgot to kick his balls!” she whined and sat back. “Aww man. I would’ve loved to see someone do that.”

“Of course you would.” He rolled his eyes and looked back at his shot glass.

“I’ll do it.” Jean raised his hand.

“Jean I love you and thank you so much, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He rolled his eyes and looked up as he listened to the music that was playing. It was still really faint, but he could tell that the song had just changed. He sighed and tried listening to the words. It sounded like one of those teeny bopper bands.

“Ugh, this song makes me cry,” Petra groaned.

“It’s so stupid,” Auruo rubbed her arm. “Please don’t cry again.”

“Aww you’re so nice when you take care of me,” she jokes.

“Well, if it’s stupid I don’t want anything to do with it.” Teeny bopper songs were not worth his time. He took his shot glass and frowned at seeing it was now empty. Then he heard it as he looked at the bartender.

_“I wish that I could wake up with amnesia._   
_And forget about the stupid little things….”_

He stiffened completely. He quickly looked over at Petra. “What the hell is this?”

She blinked. “The song is called _Amnesia_.”

“Amnesia…” He let out a dry laugh and looked at the bartender. “Gimme some tequila.” God, those two little shots that he had before were not nearly enough.

The man just nodded and gave him what he asked after he paid for the shot glass. As soon as he got it, he downed it. He embraced the burn and slammed the glass back down, tossing the bartender more money. “Hit me.”

Another shot. Another chug. More glass slamming. More money. “Hit me,” he slurred.

Dennis watched him down a third shot. “Jean…”

“Himme again…” His words were distorted as the alcohol was taking effect.

Auruo shook his head. “No, don’t give him another.” He placed the money back in Jean’s hand. “You’ve had enough.”

Jean leaned against his coworker. “Y-you’re right Auruo, this song’s stupid,” he laughed. “It’s so fucking stupid!”

“What the hell is the matter with you now?” he muttered.

“It’s fucking incredible!” Jean stumbled off of his stool and went into the middle of the room. “This asshole wishes he could wake up with amnesia! Ha! That is so fucking stupid! Don’t you agree?!”

They realized that something really provoked Jean. Petra moved closer. “Jean, what’s wrong? You’re talking crazy.”

“Crazy?!” He breathed out another laugh. “Someone just said that they wanted to wake up with amnesia to forget a fucking breakup! And you’re calling _me_ crazy?!”

Gunther shook his head. “C’mon, we have to take you home.”

Jean was just fine. Ever since he started his job he completely got over Marco. He was doing his job like normal. But that one “stupid” and “crazy” incident opened old wounds once again. Suddenly he realized how much he missed him.

Suddenly he realized how hollow he’d become.

Dennis and Gunther took hold of both Jean’s arms, and he tried squirming away.

“It’s not fucking fair!” he retorted. “That boy knows _shit_ about what it really feels like to wake up with amnesia after a painful breakup! After _anything!_ After even the best day of his goddamn life!” He struggled when their grips got tighter. “L-let me go! You guys don’t even know! Hell, I don’t. But I know someone who does, and I’m never gonna see him again! I _can’t_ see him again!”

“Jean, snap out of it!” Dazz stayed back as he yelled. They dragged him outside of the bar.

“You guys have no fucking idea!” he cried. “Let me go,right now!”

Marco. He wanted Marco. He wanted to see him and maybe hold him, even if it would be only for a second. He wanted to feel his lips gently brush against his own like they did when he was with him. He wanted his hands… his beautiful hands running over his arching body and giving him comfort from the slightest touch. He wanted the sweet sensation he used to feel that most would call love. He wanted it. He craved it. He wanted Marco.

“Jean, relax!” Auruo said. “You’re drunk. You’re just gonna forget all of this tomorrow morning when you have a bitch of a hangover.”

“Don’t you _ever_ say that I will forget!” He flinched as he was slapped hard across the face. He stopped yelling before he could even form any other words to say. He gave Petra a hard stare.

“I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I just didn’t know how to get you to shut up.” She shook his head. “He needs to be taken home. He shouldn’t have come with us.”

“We didn’t know that was gonna happen.” Auruo looked at their friends. “Sorry, we’re gonna take off.”

Gunther let go of Jean when he didn’t struggle anymore. “That’s fine by me.” He looked at Jean. “Are you okay walking home?”

“Shut up,” Jean muttered and turned back. He started to walk off, and after that was when his mind got really hazy.

\--

 _He had no idea how he_ got home. He had no idea how he even ended up in his bed. All he knew was that his head hurt like a fucking bitch. He didn’t like this feeling at all. He groggily sat up, and that didn’t do him any good. He found he was wearing an oversized shirt to bed, and his piercings were still in.

“The fuck happened?” he mumbled, all coherence leaving his mind when he got up from his bed. He held onto the mattress. “Shit… Too much tequila.”

He looked in the mirror and nodded matter-of-factly. His hair was a mess, and the five o’clock shadow he wore was masked by the amount of stubble he had on his chin. Dark circles were under his eyes.

Yes. _Way_ too much tequila.

He shakily walked over to the bathroom. He just needed a shower. That would easily wake him up and get him back on the move. Good thing he didn’t have work today. He would’ve been thoroughly fucked.

Jean brought a change of clothes with him into the bathroom. He set them down on the counter and turned away from the sink as he undressed. He sighed deeply, his body aching. There was a slight stinging pain that he took no mind to at the moment. It will go away after he showers.

He turned the water on and soon got in, humming softly at the way his body easily relaxed under the head. He closed his eyes, his hands running down his sides. He imagined that it was someone else touching him like this. Someone else holding him and taking all that tense pain away with soft lips and gentle, hot fingertips, and _Marco…_

As he made his way up to feeling his chest, he froze. Something did not feel right when he pressed his fingers right above where his heart was. That wasn’t his skin. He quickly looked down and blinked his eyes into focus when seeing a bandage. He didn’t even turn the shower off. He stepped out and tried not to slip as he rushed to the mirror. His mind wasn’t playing any tricks on him. There really was a bandage there. Right on his skin. It was covering something.

Jean bit his lip. What could he possibly be covering? Did he get hurt? It obviously wasn’t enough for him to be hospitalized since he woke up in his own bed, but it was enough to have this slight stinging pain that was really starting to annoy the hell out of him. Out of curiosity, he carefully took off the tape around it. It didn’t hurt so much since he was just under the shower water.

But when he removed the bandage, he couldn’t help but stare at what it covered in absolute shock. He dropped the soaked, old bandage and his eyes watered. This couldn’t be real. Why would this happen? He felt his whole body shake and a sob threaten to escape, so he covered his mouth and stared down at what he saw in the mirror. It was real. It was right there. All he could do was walk to the shower, and the hot water inside brought him to his knees. The shower was a comfortable place to lie down in. He kept looking down and shook his head, unable to hold it in.

What he saw in the mirror, what was right on his chest, was a tattoo. This tattoo was a word, written in careful script that showed the artist really took his time. It was in a brownish tint, and the style resembled letters that would have been decorated on a cake. That frosting texture was right there on his skin. But what made it even worse than it already was… What _ironically_ was the icing on the cake was what the word was.

_Marco…_


	12. Go Your Own Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road to recovery. The road to self-acceptance. The road to finding the answers to questions that had been nagging at Marco's mind.
> 
> Now. Six months after the day he said goodbye to someone he now had no knowledge of their existence.

_“Loving you isn’t the right thing to do._

_How can I ever change things that I feel?_

_If I could, baby I’d give you my world._

_How can I if you won’t take it from me?_

_You can go your own way,_

_Go your own way._

_You can call it another lonely day.”_

-       _Go Your Own Way,_ Lissie

 

* * *

 

_Tears. They ran down his face_ like waterfalls. They led down to pool around his neck. And they just wouldn’t stop, no matter how deeply he had been sleeping. It wasn’t until the sound of the alarm clock screaming that it was seven in the morning that he finally woke up, stains running down from his eyes at this point.

Marco rubbed his eyes and felt a giant weight on himself. He looked around and noticed that it was a little chilly in his bedroom. He took a deep breath and glanced over at his clock.

**Read me, Marco.**

He was a little surprised to see the note, and it was on top of a bound book. He sat up and grabbed it, his hands still a little weak and unable to grasp it at first after he had been sleeping. He opened the first page. It was a journal.

 

_July 5, 2014_

_I decided that I was going to make this journal today. I just found out today that on February 17 th 2012, I got hit in a car accident that makes me have a short-term memory span of only twenty four hours. Every morning I wake up thinking that it is February 17th 2012, but as you can see from the top of the page, it is over two years later since the accident._

_There was this new method that my family made along with this man I just met today. It was through a DVD that explained everything to me, and all the events that had happened in the world since my accident. I think that it’s very effective, and Pa said that it was the first time that I saw the video._

_But I have a feeling that this journal might be an extra boost for me, you know? I want to be able to see in my own words what I experience every day, so that I have something to look back on. This is only a test run for now, but I have a feeling that if this turns into a diary, I might have to throw it away and just forget the idea._

_I’m kidding, I probably would still keep it. Well, I’ll never know now, will I? I suppose that if future me is reading this right now, I didn’t throw it away. So cool. This is going to be really weird for me to be honest, but I’m giving this a chance._

As Marco read that first entry he self-consciously rubbed the side of his head, feeling a deep scar. His eyes were watering already, but he kept reading. This was his own account. He was telling himself what had happened since two years after his accident, and he found this extremely useful. He skimmed through the different pages and sighed.

_July 10, 2014_

_Work was pretty good today. I filled in an order of six birthday cakes in one day. On time. Can you believe it? Me neither._

_This kinda became a diary on accident. I totally didn’t mean for this to happen. But it’s a little fun, seeing all these entries I’ve done and being able to distinguish what’s real and what’s not._

_\--_

_August 7, 2014,_

_My therapist wants me to use this as a better tool for realizing that my life is going by much faster than I realize. It’s still very hard going to an appointment when I have to, because sometimes I don’t remember that I have to see him, or that I need to make sure I call him just in case. Only to be told that I was supposed to see him yesterday or tomorrow or god knows what the hell else I come up with._

_It’s extremely frustrating. How am I supposed to be able to cope with emotions like this if I can’t even remember my damn therapist appointments? Dr. Zacharius is very patient with me though, so at least that’s good._

_\--_

_September 20, 2014_

_Today I had a weird dream. I was walking along the beach and there was this shadow along the shore, staring at me and not once stopping, even after I told it to go away. I still have no idea what it really was, and I’m not really sure if I want to find out. Dr. Zacharius told me that it was probably just a lucid dream. That was a really scary feeling though. I’m just hoping that I won’t have that dream again._

_\--_

_October 5, 2014_

_It’s been three months since I started this journal, and it’s become a very helpful tool. I’m so glad that I came up with this idea. Can you believe that today I actually remembered to go to Dr. Zacharius’ appointment? I think this whole therapy thing is what is really helping me. But I still like looking at this journal. It’s basically a gentle reminder that all of this stuff happened. It’s so great, to be honest._

_I think I’m going to write more often. I sound like a broken record, I know. But I just really like that I did so well today._

He tilted his head. All of these entries were different, but at the same time they were exactly the same. It basically just told him about each day, and the different things that happened. It was either a good day or a bad one. He seemed to like the good days the best, naturally. He kept reading, rather intrigued.

 

_December 25, 2014_

_Christmas is today. I remembered to get those presents you mentioned in yesterday’s entry out of the closet. Dad and Pa really liked that bench press you got them. Especially Pa, of course. I knew he needed a new one, so it was perfect._

_I gave Ymir and Krista a set of wine glasses. And then they gave me a shirt that was way too small. It had a little letters that said **“I love my uncle.”** And that was when I realized. Oh my god…_

_They wanted a baby. I think I said that they announced it sometime in October. I can’t think of that right now. But Krista recently was artificially inseminated. And when they tested if she was pregnant, it came out positive. This is the first time I am hearing this news, and this has to be one of the greatest days of my life._

_I’m gonna be an uncle!_

He froze and smiled slowly. “Wow. I’m gonna be an uncle?” he grinned and breathed out a laugh. He couldn’t imagine how excited he really was when he first found out about the news. He probably cried.

 

_…There were a lot of tears shed, and Ymir kept laughing at me because I’d been crying._

 

So he did, apparently.

Marco sat up more and flipped through more pages.

 

_January 20, 2015_

_I had a weird dream. There was a silhouette along the beach, and… it was laughing. Not really menacingly, but it sounded almost playful. It beckoned me closer and whispered to me “Let me come home.” But before I could get close enough, I woke up in tears. I don’t why I keep dreaming this stuff, and Dr. Zacharius said that it was just a nightmare. Only a nightmare. But it feels like much more than that._

_There was no way of telling what that really was. At least I think there isn’t. There isn’t anything in my journal that tells me who or what this thing is. All that it tells me is that it wants to come home. If they’re not home then… where are they? I don’t even know. I’m probably just talking nonsense._

_Good morning, by the way._

Marco felt like he had been looking at this journal for long enough to understand what’s going on. He flipped to the last written page. It was dated February 19th 2015\. Yesterday. This one was a little longer than the others.

 

_February 19, 2015_

_Things have been really complicating today. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be doing with my life now. It’s been over 3 years since the accident now. I went from being hospitalize for months, to living the same day over and over for a year and a half, to starting therapy six months ago. I’m not even sure if that therapy is working. I’m too surprised when seeing that Krista is pregnant whenever she comes over. I’m going through that whole spiel again about how I can’t handle missing therapy dates. Some days are okay, and others are just simply off. There’s no other way to describe it, and there will never be another way._

_Why am I being so up front about this now? You’re probably still sitting in the bed, so I’ll just explain it to you._

_Today when I was driving in the car, I heard a song on the radio. It was new to me, but it probably must’ve been around for a while. Anyways, the lyrics made my stomach drop. It was about a painful breakup I guess, and the idiot says that he wished he could wake up with amnesia. What kind of asshole says something like that?_

_I think I was crying at work for almost two hours._

_If he’s really that upset about a breakup, then he needs to reevaluate himself, or get some therapy. Or something. And this is really important to me. I wake up every single morning without remembering anything that happened the day before. Even if it was a good day. That’s not even fair, and I can’t stand it._

_This is why this entry is so fucking long, okay? You_ cannot _forget this. And you can’t miss your therapy appointment today. Four o’clock. Do not be late. Please. Tell Dr. Zacharius about what is in this entry. And don’t mess it up, okay? Bring the book with you. He likes when you do that anyways._

_Have fun at therapy today, then._

Marco looked at the time blankly. It was now quarter to eight. It was a Friday, so he had a short day at work. He got up and walked downstairs. The area seemed much different than what he thought.

“Dad?” He moved closer to the kitchen. “Pa?”

He looked over at the fridge and saw a note. He sighed and looked at it.

_Hey, Marco!_  
 _We went on a Caribbean cruise on the 13 th, and we will be back on the 21st. You know where the food is. Be good, and we’ll be back on Saturday!  
_ _Dad and Pa._

“Fucking great,” he laughed dryly and put the note back. He made himself breakfast like he did when he was doing his normal routine, and he headed off to work right after.

Reiner was pretty happy to see him come in.

For the first two hours he worked like usual, and he kept himself very relaxed and a bit chipper. At least this seemed a little like his routine. As for the rest of it, he really wasn’t sure.

“Okay Marco, I got a really long list for you.” Reiner waited for Marco to get a paper and pen for himself. “It’s a party for two hundred people. They want classy birthday cupcakes. One hundred chocolate, one hundred yellow. Here’s the trick: the big chocolate cake that they want—two tiered—has to be gluten free. They want it by tomorrow at ten in the morning.”

He sighed heavily. “Alrighty, that’s a tough one. Not impossible.” He started to make plans on that same piece of paper. “Let them know I’ll do it. I’ll start on it right away.” He walked to the back to get the mix ready.

He really loved his job, but with huge orders like these, he wished he had a bigger kitchen. This was going to take him all day. He kept a thought in his head that managed to make him smile, and soon he brought himself to hum along to a familiar tune. That kept him going, and it gave him motivation to start working on the many, _many_ cupcakes first.

_“Home, let me come home,”_ he hummed and smiled. This was his happy song. It kept him relaxed, and he only thought of singing this song when he was really happy about something. _“Home is wherever I’m with you.”_

Reiner heard him and looked over at the kitchen. Marco was just mixing the batter and singing. But he knew that he only sang that song on days that he thought about Jean… but Jean hadn’t been in town for six months now. There was no way he could’ve thought of him.

Then he realized that Jean probably wasn’t the only thing that made him happy either. Maybe he was just… giddy today. He was going to therapy, so maybe Dr. Zacharius was going to do something nice for him. He was a very good client, after all. Marco never gave him a hard time about anything that happened each session that he was able to go to.

_“Mama, I’m coming home!”_

When Marco sang that out loud, Reiner shook his head and chuckled as he took muffins out of the oven. “Chill back there, American Idol!”

“My voice is beautiful!” he hollered and cackled in the back.

“Keep telling yourself that, and maybe the rest of us will believe you too!” Reiner teased.

Marco shook his head and wiped some flour off his face. He went back to working after putting the first couple batches, still humming but his eyes now looking bright than before. This was what he really liked, and he stayed in this sweet mood for the rest of the time.

\--

_At about four o’clock, when Marco_ showed up for his appointment, that was when things started to feel a little dark for him. All of a sudden he realized everything that he had said in yesterday’s entry. About the song with amnesia. And that set a fire in him that he desperately wanted to let out. Good thing he had a therapist for that, then. He was supposed to help him, right? So he was going to make sure that he got help.

“Mr. Bodt?”

The receptionist called him up, and he was led into Dr. Zacharius’ office. He took a deep breath, knowing that this was the first time that he was going to see his face, even though his journal told him otherwise. He’d technically been seeing him for… six months? Maybe. Give or take.

That was when the shaggy haired blonde sporting a moustache came in. He saw him and gave him a comforting smile. “Good afternoon. I’m Dr. Zacharius. You must be Marco Bodt.”

As if they were just meeting for the first time. That feeling was a bit eerie.

Marco nodded insistently. “Yes. I’m Marco. Nice to meet you.” He shook hands with the therapist. “So, I can just call you Doctor, right?”

“If you’d like, you could also call me Mike,” he assured him. “Keeps things casual and a little relaxing, some of my clients have said.”

“I’ll just call you Doctor for now, then,” he said and laughed nervously. He reached into his coat pocket and grabbed his journal.

Mike raised a brow. “Oh good. You brought your journal with you. Go ahead and have a seat after taking off your coat.”

He nodded and felt his heart pound. Marco sat in that seat he couldn’t remember sitting in before, placing his jacket right beside him. He opened the book right up to the page that was troubling him. Yesterday’s.

“So, Doctor… I read this entry this morning. Apparently I heard a song on the radio on my way to work that really threw me off. And to be honest, it still really does.”

“That’s actually pretty smooth progress,” he insisted. “Anyways, tell me why it bothers you so much. Don’t be shy.”

Marco scratched his head. “Well… it seems like it’s become such a fad. Like, ‘wow, amnesia’s so cool.’ ‘I can’t believe I just did that. I wish I had amnesia right now.’ ‘Oh, my heart is so broken, I want amnesia so I can forget all about it.’ People are just really, really selfish.”

Mike knew that there was something more. He was briefly taking notes. “Go on…”

It was a liberating feeling knowing that he could talk like this without being stopped or told that he was wrong. He didn’t hesitate to continue. “It’s ridiculous. Some people actually pray for this or wish for this? High schoolers that are embarrassed or annoyed with like just wish they could forget something that happened to throw off their entire day. Adults that have failed marriages or people where their relationships just go down the toilet do too, just wishing that the pain would stop. God, _plenty_ of people wish for this and don’t know how awful it can really feel. I didn’t ask for this to happen. I never really prayed for it, that’s nonsense. But life just has a funny way of working. It may be God, I don’t know. But for some reason, this had to happen to me. And frankly, I’m pretty damn pissed.”

Marco clenched his fists. There was a moment where he couldn’t find the words to say. Maybe this really was some grudge that he started to build, and overtime if manifested into an ugly resentment. There was not a chance of him stopping this rant any time soon.

“You know, no one really knows how it feels until it happens to you. And this is something I don’t wish upon anyone. This… this clean slate.” He got a bad taste in his mouth. “Every night I go to sleep with new memories to be stored, but they just pack their bags and leave my brain as soon as I lose consciousness. Every damn day I wake up thinking it’s my sister’s birthday, even if it’s my own. I have no memory of the day that I experienced before. I wake up and find out that my brain has been lying to me. Do you even know what that’s like, Dr. Zacharius?”

He shook his head. “Not that I know of, Marco.”

Marco’s eyes were starting to sting from the tears that he was trying to hold back. “I have to wake up and find out that I’ve been living the same fucking day for two years. No matter what happened the day before, it will always be the same thing. I’m growing older, and I don’t even realize it. I hate it. I want to really feel connections, to have real bonds and real love for people around me. I want to stop being such a damn burden on everyone else. I want to actually live.”

Mike leaned closer. “Listen. Times are really tough for you, and we both know it. But you are not a burden. No one ever is. What you need to do is not think about the fact that you can’t remember new things. You have every right to live your life just as much as the next guy, and keep living that life to the fullest day by day.”

He shook his head. “It’s scary, you know. That one day, I’m gonna wake up grayed with age, and I won’t even know why. That I will never have any more real memories for the rest of my life. Every damn day I’m told about what happened a day, a month, or a year before, and I only get to just _think_ about it—not really remember it—for only a day. I’m not living a real life anymore. It’s all just unintentional ignorance and temporary emotions.” He sniffled, his eyes still narrowed at the thought that someone so _foolish_ would claim that living a life like this, or any other type of amnesia, was okay. “And to think that people actually wish for this and that waking up with a clean slate is a good thing. It might be good for them for probably just one night. But every single day? No… Then it just becomes a fucking nightmare.”

He was silent after that, although he was shaken. So much he had said and so much to be taken in. The truth was that there was so much fear that he felt now. He was terrified. And when he didn’t know what exactly was going on, that made it worse.

“You’re scared,” his therapist said softly. “You don’t like the way your life is now. You wish you can live a normal one. Is that correct?”

Marco nodded. “I don’t know what to do. The thought itself just scares me to death. Just…why? Why did I this have to happen to me?”

“We never know why these things happen, Marco,” he said. “But it’s not really about what happened. It’s about how you are going to live after this happened. It doesn’t have to be unintentional ignorance and temporary emotions, as you say. How do you feel when you’re reading this journal? Can I look at it?”

He nodded and handed him the journal. “When I read it, I… it’s like a story. I’m supposed to know what it’s all about, but I’m reading it for the very first time. It makes it a little exciting, and it adds some suspense to it. You know? The good kind of suspense. I just wish that maybe, I would be able to know exactly what my past self is trying to tell me.”

“Naturally.” He looked up from an excerpt that he was reading. “I just want to make a small suggestion. When you feel like it is necessary, write down the times that things happen during the day. For example: _December 5, 2014 – At 5:30 Ymir barged into the room while I was masturbating and commented that my ‘dick game was weak’ and could use some work.”_

Marco was immediately red in the face. Why did Mike have to read _that_ one? “I think I might need another example that’s… l-less embarrassing?”

“Okay.” He quirked up an eyebrow in amusement and flipped a few pages back. “ _October 31, 2014 – At 8 in the morning Reiner called and told me that an agency was asking about the new painting on the wall. At least, I think that it was new. I’ve never seen it before._ Maybe something like that?”

“I see,” he nodded. “I think I’ll be able to work that out.”

“That’ll make imagining the events much easier,” he said. “Overtime when you read these entries again, it will seem more like reality and less like a story.”

“I see why that will make things easier,” Marco murmured. “Thank you. I’ll try that.”

“Start with an example for today.” Mike gave him the journal back and a pen. “Just make up a response to put down, and remember to put down the time.”

As he opened to a free page, he thought of something to write and quietly jotted down. 

_February 20, 2015_  
 _4:50 p.m. – Dr. Zacharius completely embarrassed me during therapy today. He read aloud my entry where Ymir walked in on me masturbating. Now I’m pretty much scarred for the next few hours. Thank you, therapy.  
_ _I also told him about the song and how I felt with amnesia. And a lot of things have been cleared up now. We’re going to work to make sure that I feel as in touch with reality as I can be. And part of it is writing down the times that I write down entries or events happen. Maybe that will help. Who knows, right?_

Mike looked over. “Yes, just like that. And keep doing that each day.” He looked at the time again. “It’s just about the end of our session.”

“Really?” Marco looked over at his coat and took it. “That wasn’t as painful as I thought it was going to be.”

“You made a lot of progress when it comes to being here for appointments. Your first session, you were more or less, a nervous wreck. It’s like a routine. Once it gets into your head that this is where you need to be, it comes naturally to you. And that’s the stage you’re at now, after six months of frequent visits. Now do you get a bit of an idea of how much you’re growing and recovering?”

“I think I’m starting to.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Thank you, Dr. Zacharius.”

“Any time.” As Marco got up the two of them shook hands. “And keep this thought in mind. Live a little.”

“If you say so,” he chuckled and put his jacket on. “Have a nice day.” Marco walked out of the room and headed home. The best thing that he could do now is work on his journal. Maybe it really will make things better. He was always learning, after all.

\--

_February 28, 2015  
_ _3:28 p.m. – I’m having a bit of a bad day today. This wasn’t really according to plan. Just a lot of orders and I was really sick with a border-lining flu. No thanks to my parents. Pa brought it home from their trip to the Caribbean. Thanks a fucking lot. Reiner sent me home early._

_6:30 p.m. – I’m fucking throwing up. This is bullshit. I’m gonna have to call out tomorrow, and I don’t wanna do that to poor Reiner. Hopefully Sasha or Armin could fill in for him, you know? But I just can’t do it._

_\--_

_March 2, 2015_  
 _10:30 a.m. – Cupcakes are the best. Especially when you get to customize each and every one of them. I made three dozen today for a little dance at a nursing home. They all really like my decorating skills, so they wanted each cupcake to have its own, unique design.  
_ _I wish I had Dad’s Polaroid, because then I would be able to see them all the time. But instead I’m gonna show these shitty sketches instead. I’m not really that great of an artist, of course._

_\--_

_March 6, 2015_

_1:30 p.m. – They say that when you feel an attraction it’s instantaneous. That’s how I kinda felt when I saw Samuel Linke-Jackson. His father is a regular customer, and he showed up today. He kept winking at me. It was pretty cute. Reiner kept saying that I was blushing. Who am I to deny it? He’s kinda hot._  
 _I think he just hit me up too. Gave me his number on a napkin. I’m definitely gonna call him tomorrow. It’s my day off of work then.  
_ _8:13 p.m. I called him. And it’s definitely a date. I’m so excited. It’s been so long since I’ve gone out with someone. More than three years! This is perfect._

_\--_

_March 7, 2015_

_6:30 – I’m leaving for my date now. I’m gonna tell you how it goes. We’re having dinner at the restaurant down the street, and he’s gonna take me for a walk. So, I think I’m gonna be back around 10ish, so be prepared for a lot of giddy words of nonsense._

_\--_

_The bed was creaking and his_ breathingwas heavy and hard. His pleasured gasps were muffled by the pillow.

Marco let out a long moan, his fingers curling as his knees shook. “S-Samuel…”

Samuel’s grip on his hips was so tight, his thrusts deep and _so_ fast, making the air around them hot and heavy. However, his grunts were slightly off-turning for Marco even though it just felt too good and his mouth hung open from it.

He felt Sam spanking him right over his tattoo and a jolt coursed through him, evoking a needy cry. He wanted the release so bad. And to think that he thought it was just going to be a regular date. Not that he didn’t enjoy this.

“S-Samuel!” he cried his name again, his sweet spot getting rammed into with so much force that his thighs were quaking. His hand desperately reached back to take hold of something, _any_ part of his partner’s body to give him stability.

“Like that?” he groaned and did nothing to spare the man underneath him as he just gave it to him and pounded in faster and _harder,_ and Marco wasn’t given an opportunity to say yes so he desperately nodded.

Marco really hoped that Samuel could sense his urgency as he was rocking his hips back, his needy keens growing louder and higher. Now he was getting so close, the orgasm building up hot in his gut. He tried so hard to warn him, but all that could come out was “I-I’m—fuck! Fuckfuckfuck _fuckfuck!”_

And it was over just like that, Marco’s come making a mess on Samuel’s bed. Of course he was embarrassed by that, especially at hearing him groan once the sudden tightness caused him to fall fast into release as well. He collapsed, caught in the afterglow and lying on cold jizz throughout the rest of his high. Samuel gave him a quick kiss. And that was the end of the date before the night ended with them slipping breathlessly into slumber. They didn’t even clean up, but Marco tried to move closer to the other in the bed during the night.

Something didn’t feel right. But he guessed that it was because their date didn’t go the way they originally planned.

\-- 

_March 8, 2015_  
 _11:13 a.m. – I woke up in Samuel Linke-Jackson’s bed, naked and cold and feeling rather messy. I wasn’t sure why because he was only a customer at my job, but sooner or later I found out. And it wasn’t the pain in my ass that sent that message loud and clear either.  
_ _But probably the worst part of that morning was that Samuel wanted me to leave so quickly. I feel like there was something missing. Maybe there was a connection that was supposed to be there. But either way, here I am crying in my bedroom trying to write all of this shit down. This was not that great of a morning, to say the least._

_7:30 p.m. – Reiner sent me comfort food: blueberry muffins. I told him about what happened, and he looked rather annoyed more than anything. That someone could just behave that way after what supposedly happened the night before. Sex._  
 _I told him that he wanted me to leave right when I registered the fact that I was sleeping in his bed and not in my room. I was scared as hell and just wanted to know why I was there and what had happened and why I’m not at the house getting ready for Ymir’s birthday. My questions weren’t answered until I finally got here and read this fucking journal.  
_ _I guess that this is what you can call a bad day. I hope to never relive something as brutal as this._

_\--_

_March 25, 2015_

_7:15 a.m. – I had a weird dream this morning. I heard singing from all around me, but the voice was so distorted that I couldn’t make out what they were trying to tell me. There was a lot of talk of “home” and “I’m coming home” that I was able to pick up, but the rest was all Gibberish. I don’t understand. I feel like this wasn’t the only time that I’ve had a weird dream like this._  
 _Probably the best news of this morning is that my new tattoo is healing. The phoenix. I really like it, and it’s gonna be really fun seeing it every day like it’s the first time and acting like “When the hell did I get this tattoo?” I crack myself up._  
 _Today I read the first entry and the last one first, just so that I can understand what exactly happened, and then what day it is today judging by the date of yesterday’s entry. After I finish this one, I’m gonna read all the ones that are starred along the corner of the margin. I can tell those ones are important. And then I’m going to read some extra ones if I have the time. That seems logical doesn’t it? And convenient.  
_ _Maybe this method will work best._

_\--_

_March 30, 2015  
_ _Noon – There was a familiar face in the bakery. Well, I didn’t know him personally, but he was my idol, seriously. His name—you guessed it—Mylius Zeramuski! I only know that because he just so happened to be very big in the cake decorating business. Professional wedding cakes up north! I love his designs. Call me crazy, I think my college fan boy days are coming back. So what was Mylius Zeramuski doing in Miami? Well… he was here for his grandfather’s birthday, and he just so happened to be a regular customer. Despite how amazing his skills are, they both asked me to make it! This has to be a dream. Well, I guess I will find out tomorrow morning. I have to have that cake ready by about eleven o’clock. Let’s see how it turns out._

_\--_

_Mylius showed up the next day_ withouthis grandfather, and he walked over to the counter.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Braun,” the man said and looked over at the kitchen. He happened to catch Marco’s eye, making the little fanatic in him internally scream. “Mr. Bodt. Is my grandfather’s cake ready?”

“Y-yes, Sir.” Marco carefully took it out from the fridge, and he brought it out to the counter. It was exactly like Mr. Zeramuski’s grandfather wanted it. Two-tiered, the first chocolate and the second red velvet. Butter cream frosting with his famous flower designs every forty-five degrees. He added the intricate designs in chocolate on the sides of each tier intentionally, knowing that his grandfather really liked the effects of overlapping and interweaving. “Here. I don’t think it’s my best work, but I hope your grandfather really likes.”

The look on Mylius’ face said it all. He was genuinely surprised. “Wow… I know my grandfather said that you were good, but… this is very impressive.”

Of course Marco blushed. He shook hbe is head. “I’m sure you’re just saying that, Mr. Zeramuski.”

“I don’t say that to just anyone, Mr. Bodt.” He tilted his head. “Bodt, Bodt… Ah, now I know where I heard your name from.” He looked at Reiner. “Mr. Braun once called me and told me that you were interested in looking for work somewhere higher up. But when I called you, you never answered.”

He blinked. “Reiner, when did you call Mr. Zeramuski?”

Reiner laughed nervously. “Actually… it was the day of your accident. I wanted to wait until you left before I’d decide to call him and recommend you. And the rest is history.”

Before his accident…

There was no way that he could work higher up now. He would be heading to work at Braun’s Pastries every day without realizing that he didn’t work for his long-time boss anymore. Hell, he had to be reminded each day that his lover he went on only one date with was actually now his life partner. He had to be reminded that in October, he was going to be an uncle. He had to be reminded of assignments and appointments with Dr. Zacharius. That was a lot to take in, but having a different job after the accident would just make it worse on him, in his opinion.

“Accident?” Mylius was now curious. “There was an accident?”

“Car accident,” he specified. “I now have Anterograde Amnesia. And that makes me unable to remember anything after my accident. Short-term memory, I mean. This was three years ago.”

He tilted his head. “Is there any method of therapy you use to help you?”

Marco nodded. “Three times a week I see Dr. Zacharius. And I also keep a journal. It helps record events that happened so that I would have something to look back on and have a better sense of reality.”

“Very interesting,” Mr. Zeramuski mused. “Seeing that you are indeed in a decent stability, I don’t see why I can’t have you work for me in New York City.”

Marco choked on his own spit. This couldn’t be happening. “Me… w-work for _you?_ _The_ Mylius Zeramuski?”’

Reiner grinned. He totally should take that job.

“Of course,” he said. “I would love to have someone with your experience as a part of my crew. Unless, if you wish to stick to one small business?”

“Mr. Zeramuski, I really like working here. Plus, me? In New York City? Can you imagine having to remind me that I work for you every day and have me go through the whole run-down over and over—”

Marco’s rambling turned into edged panic. Reiner snapped him out of if by placing his hand on his shoulder.

“He will think about your offer, Mr. Zeramuski,” he said for Marco. “How long are you here until?”

“April 5th,” he answered.

“Then we will have your answer before then, okay?”

“Perfect.” Mylius looked at Marco. “You have a lot of potential, young man. I want you to keep that alive and thriving, no matter what you decide. Okay?”

Marco nodded, clearing his throat. “Okay. Thank you, Sir.”

After Mylius left, Reiner slapped his back. “Hey, what the hell? Why didn’t you take the job right away?”

“Reiner, you know why,” he muttered. “I can’t do it with my life like this. I can’t do anything out of the norm. It’s better for everybody.”

“Is it really?” He raised a brow. “Because I believe I can name at least five people that would say otherwise.”

He shook his head. “It’s better that I just… y’know, stay at home, come to work, and occasionally have a little fun inside my comfort zone. I see that being involved in relationships or taking long-distance jobs will not do anything to help me.”

Reiner groaned heavily and then cupped his chin, making the boy look at him. “Marco. I believe in your journal it says that Dr. Zacharius told you something. What was that again?”

He knew exactly what he was talking about. He read it right before he went to work. It was from last month. “I don’t know.”

“Bullshit, Marco. Tell me,” he smiled.

He sighed heavily. He knew it word for word. “‘You are not a burden. No one ever is. What you need to do is not think about the fact that you can’t remember new things. You have every right to live your life just as much as the next guy, and keep living that life to the fullest day by day.’”

“Yep,” he grinned. “ _And?”_ Reiner smirked.

He looked over. “What do you mean ‘and,’ Reiner?”

“You know _exactly_ what I mean, Marco,” he laughed. “C’mon Marco.”

The brunette rolled his eyes, looking up at the ceiling. “ _And_ ‘it’s not really about what happened. It’s about how you are going to live after this happened,’” he sighed quickly. “Happy?”

“Not yet.” He took him by his shoulders. “I want you to look me in the eye and tell me everything your therapist said to you, and instead of saying ‘you,’ say ‘I.’”

“What?” Marco shook his head. “No, I can’t do that.”

“Come on! Just do it. Look at me.” He waited until Marco looked him in the eye. “Now say it.”

Marco gulped. He had to take a deep breath. All of a sudden the quotes he just said earlier were much harder to say now that he had to apply them. “Uh…” He diverted his eyes. “I’m not a burden.”

“What was that?” he smirked. “I didn’t hear you. You gotta look at me in order for me to hear you.”

He finally looked up. He was obviously shaky now. “I-I’m not a burden…” it came out as a whisper.

“I still can’t hear you, bud.” He sighed. “Damn, I think I’m getting old.”

“I’m not a burden!” he finally shouted. It came straight from his gut and trailed up without a second thought now. For a second, hearing himself say that was a little powerful. Miraculous. It brought tears to his eyes. “I’m not a burden!”

“That’s what I thought,” he chuckled. “Now, say it like you _really_ mean it.”

“I’m not a burden!” It brought a smile to his lips briefly. “All I need to do is not think about the fact that I can’t remember new things.”

Reiner nodded quickly. “Yes, yes! Now, say it loud and proud, Marco!”

“It’s not about what happened to me,” he quickly said. “It’s not about the accident or the injury. It’s all about how I’m going to live after this happened, how I’m going to live my life just as much as the next guy.” He smiled. “I have every right to live my life just as much as the next guy, Reiner! I’m not just living a life of unintentional ignorance and temporary emotions. I’m going to live!” Tears ran down his face. “I-I’m not a burden!”

He looked at him and smiled. “There we go…”

Marco just nodded and smiled as his eyes watered. “O-okay, I can’t stop crying now, help!”

“Aww, baby,” he teased but moved closer. He pulled him close into a tight hug, the burly man slowly rubbing the other’s back. “I’m proud of you. You hear me? I am so fucking proud of you.”

He couldn’t do anything else but nod. No words came out. His hands were locked around him and the key seemed to have been misplaced. He couldn’t break away from this hold. Maybe he really needed this.

Maybe Dr. Zacharius was proud of what he had accomplished. He was going to see him this evening, and the next appointment was on the third. He already had what he wasn’t to say planned out, and nothing was going to hinder that.

“So, what do you wanna do, Marco?” Reiner then asked, feeling the brunette’s body relax at last when his sobs subsided. “Are you going to take that job? You really don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Maybe he really should. His family and friends had been waiting for him to move on with his career for _so_ long. They _wanted_ him to move higher up. Even Reiner wanted him to. He deserved this chance, and he was not going to waste it.

He made his decision. He nodded and slowly smiled. “Yes. I’m going to take the job.”

\--

_March 31, 2015_  
 _5:00 p.m. – Dr. Zacharius was so proud of me. He loved that I was able to tell myself that I wasn’t a burden to anyone. You should have seen the look on his face when he said that. And he was also really happy for me that I’m taking the job._  
 _I found out more information about it. He first wants me to be taken under his wing to have more tips on how I can improve as a cake decorator. That’s why I’m going to New York City first. And then he wants me in Jersey. Not too bad. There is a side business he has there, and he wants to be one of the head decorators.  
_ _Proceeding to profusely freak out and being smothered by praise from my parents. Maybe some tears will be shed._

_\--_

_Marco walked along a deserted beach._ It wasn’t like it was abandoned. The businesses were there, the lights were all on and the music was very distant. But still, it was all there, unhindered. Just… there was no people around him at all as the sun was starting to set. That would not be possible at all in Miami, even if it was only April. No one ever just does not go to the beach.

He had his shoes off with his toes digging into the sand as he walked around in search for life. It was so calming listening to the tide coming in, retracting and then coating the soaked sand with its gentle foam, cleansing it of the marks and prints in the ground. He hadn’t felt so peaceful anywhere else other than the water. And today was nowhere near an exception. Then he heard it.

“ _Marco_!”

Someone was calling his name. It was coming from ahead, but he didn’t see anyone there. He slowly inched closer to the sound, curious.

“ _Marco_!” the voice said again. “ _Marco, I’m coming home!”_

The voice sounded so familiar, but at the same time… he did not recognize it at all. He just wanted to know what was going on.

“What?” Marco called back, walking onward. “Who are you?”

There was no answer then, making him feel a little suspicious. He grew warier and clenched his fists.

“Come on,” he muttered. “No more hiding. Who are you? What are you talking about?”

That was when he suddenly staggered backward onto his back. The sand was already getting in his hair while the tide came in. What probably startled him more was when the person that pinned him kissed his forehead. They smiled such a bright smile.

“Marco,” they grinned, moving hair out of the brunette’s face.

The important questions that he should be asking again to this stranger were “Who are you?” and “What are you talking about?” or even “How do you even know my name?” But instead, he gave them a smile that mirrored the stranger’s above him.

“You’re back?” was what he asked as well. He smiled and felt their short, dusty blonde hair, the strong jawline as he leaned up. Their lips tenderly with his thumb before they connected like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Their kiss was long as the waves started to wash over them, soaking them. They quickly got up and laughed, kicking water at each other. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Their hands intertwined, their bodies were so close, and for a moment, Marco never felt happier.

He tried to say their name, but it was blotted out and erased from the slate. Their face felt so real though. The piercings and contours on their face were so solid. The soft, deep laughter as their fingers ran through his now sea-salty hair. Those unmistakable artist hands feeling through seemingly familiar territory. That made Marco smile, and his hands were laced around his neck. The sensation in his lips, the tingling excitement returned when the stranger kissed his lips again.

The way their foreheads touched made him giggle as his cheeks were dusted pink. The way the blonde kissed his hand sweetly and whispered softly, “I’m home.”

Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He felt such emotion startled to bubble up from his chest, bringing tears to his eyes. There was a sudden wanting that overwhelmed him in the height of this tide. He looked at the strange man, gently squeezing his laced fingers in his binding grip. His throat was so tight he swallowed back a sob. He had to ask this man.

“…Do I know you?”

The sudden look of pain on the blonde’s face hit him like a brick wall. His tears were so real. The sudden begging way he bit his lip was real. The emotion he emitted was so real that it made Marco want to scream.

And he did so as the man quickly faded away, turning into grains of sand and falling down on the shore to be purified by the tide.

Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

\--

_Marco woke up to the alarm_ clock with tears running down his face. He jolted out of bed, looking around shakily. He didn’t understand what the hell was going on or what that dream even meant. All he knew was that something was missing. That couldn’t have been just a dream.

He glanced at the journal on his nightstand and quickly skimmed through it. He first read the first entry thoroughly, understanding _firstly_ what had happened to him. Next he skimmed through the entry of the day before: April 1 st, 2015. He then hurriedly skimmed through the rest of the entries to find some kind of clue. _Anything_ that would give him answers about what just happened in his dream. There really had been mothering. However, there were a couple entries where he explained vague dreams with the same scene. It was just that this one was so vivid. That man looked so familiar that it was terrifying.

He looked over at his phone, also by his alarm clock. He took it and quickly called his sister. He didn’t know if she still lived here or not, but he really wanted to talk to her, not wanting to bother his parents with this for right now. It was probably just nightmare.

“Hello?”

Krista had tiredly answered Ymir’s phone instead.

Marco sniffled. “Krista? I-is Ymir awake yet?”

“No… You know her. It’s seven-fifteen. She’s not gonna be awake for another three hours probably.”

That was true. He bit his lip. “Krista, this is really important. I just read this journal I started since I found out I had amnesia. And I had this really weird dream that it can’t explain. I’m wondering if she knows why I could have such a dream like that. I didn’t even know the blonde guy in it.”

“…Blonde guy?”

He heard her on the phone and sat back. “Yeah. He was blonde and had a lot of piercings on his face.”

There was a pause. Off to the side he heard Krista again. “Ymir, wake up!”

That was quick.

Soon his older sister managed to get on the phone. “What?”

“Ymir, I need to talk to you as soon as possible,” he said. “I had this weird dream, and I don’t know why I had it. I think that you might know, so I wanted to ask you. Do you know anything about some blonde guy? Lots of piercings?” He had his notebook on his lap and quickly started jotting down some notes from the dream, wanting to make sure that he had it to look back to. Maybe for his therapist as well.

It was silent on the other end for quite a while. When Ymir answered again, her voice was strangely soft. “How could he be dreaming about him? He left Miami eight months ago. There’s no way!”

“Wait, who left, Ymir?”

“What am I supposed to tell him, Krista?” was what he heard his sister say next. Then the conversation continued between her and her life partner. “He kept the truth away from himself for a reason, though! What’s going to happen if we bring it back?”

He heard a faint “I don’t know” and sighed heavily. “Well, you’re not going to know unless you tell me. Am I right?”

The two of them laughed nervously after moving the phone away for a second. They were still obviously trying to think of their plan of attack. Do they just say that it was just a dream, or do they explain the true meaning behind it?

They chose the latter.

“Marco…”  Krista spoke first. “You’ve met that person before in real life, but you don’t remember him.”

“Obviously not,” Marco said. “But I have this journal. He doesn’t match any of the descriptions of people I’ve met since my accident.”

Ymir sighed. “That’s because you took him out of your journal completely. You erased all memories of him in that journal.”

He froze. “Wait… why would I do that?”

“To help him move on with his career. You said that it would be good for him, but he was absolutely miserable after he said goodbye to you.”

He stiffened. He remembered all those dreams where the voice screamed _“I’m coming home!”_ over and over again. For a moment he started thinking that maybe it was a sign, but he dismissed it. That was just ridiculous. It wasn’t like this was some cheap Nicholas Sparks story.

“…Who was he, Ymir?”

That was the question he desperately needed the answer to. He understood that this guy must have been important, but how? He didn’t think he could rest until he know the answer.

Ymir finally gave him some peace to his racing mind. “His name is Jean Kirschtein. He was your boyfriend.”

At that moment his heart skipped a beat. _“He was your boyfriend.”_ This was not just someone he passed by that he somehow felt an attraction to. This was his _boyfriend._ Well… now he was his ex-boyfriend. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out.

“You said that I haven’t seen him in eight months,” he pondered. “Then how the hell am I having dreams about him?”

Eight months… Almost of year of hiding his identity. Almost a year of living without once thinking about that tiny detail. Almost a year of denying that this man never existed. That was exactly what he had done. But why? If they had been in a relationship, why did he just end it to help him go forward in his career?

“I don’t know, Marco,” his sister sighed. “I’m just as shocked as you are. Maybe this is something that Dr. Zacharius can explain to you before you leave for New York. But right now, I have no idea.”

He shook his head. Okay, this man was in my life once, but… who _was_ he?

“How can I find out more about him?”

There was hesitation again. Krista spoke this time. “Your friend Sasha lives with this guy, Connie Springer. He was Jean’s best friend before he moved up north. He can tell you everything you need to know.”

“What’s the address?” he asked frantically. “I’m going there now.”

“608 Trost Blvd. Miami.”

“Thank you.” He got up to pick out some clothes. “Oh yeah. Congratulations on your baby!”

She laughed. “Thank you, Marco.”

“Okay I’m going now.” He almost tripped over his own feet. “Bye, Krista. Take care, Ymir!”

He quickly hung up and walked to his shelf. God, he needed to smoke so badly. He usually kept his stuff here, but instead he found a note and a strange looking tube that was hooked up to a charger. He read the note.

  _Need a cigarette? I bet you do. Sadly, I quit smoking back in November 2014. I now use this vape pen whenever I need it, and it works just as good. You’re gonna have to smoke that instead. Good luck! The juice for it is right next to it._  

Well that was terribly inconvenient. Fortunately, he was able to use it easily, and he went back on his way. He wanted answers, and if Connie couldn’t explain it to him, then no one can. He wanted to know more about this man. This Jean Kirschtein that was in his dreams, in his life, but erased.

He wanted to see if he could bring him back.


	13. Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter: Marco searches for and finds all his answers. And then an answer to a question that he thought he would never ask.
> 
> Content Warning: Character Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for now over 300 kudos. Also, a special thanks to Chim for their [wonderful fanart!](http://arumeen.co.vu/post/102672398496/their-last-kiss-was-filled-will-muffled-whimpers)
> 
> My laptop's busted again, so I have to do everything with my phone. Updates will be slow, and I will have silly technical difficulties for a little while. Hopefully I'll have everything taken care of soon.

_And you laugh like you’ve never been lonely..._

_Oh, you laugh like there’s hope in the story…_

_Oh you laugh like I’ll be there to hold you always Always here…_

_\- Bones, Ben Howard_

* * *

_When Marco knocked on the door_ of the house addressed as 608 Trost Blvd, a man that he didn’t recognize answered the door. This must be Connie Springer. And it was obvious that Connie already knew who he was when his eyes then widened.

“Marco?” he stammered. “Hey, what are you doing here? Oh wait, I don’t think you—”

“You’re Connie Springer,” the brunette said. “You live here with my friend Sasha… or maybe she lives with you?”

He heard Sasha come down the stairs that were right down the hall. She tilted her head. “Marco? What are you doing here?”

“I came here because I really wanted answers,” he said. “Today I had a dream, and I really want to know the meaning behind it.”

“And what answers do you need?” she murmured.

“I called my sister. And she told me that there was this man named Jean Kirschtein, and he apparently I guess has the same features as the man in my dream that I described to her and Krista.”

Connie and Sasha both looked confused. That was probably how Krista and Ymir looked when hearing him over the phone. Well, they did say that he hadn’t even seen him in eight months. He was just as concerned as they were, though.

“I just want to know who he is,” Marco told her. “I probably won’t be able to rest until I know. I’m sorry to bother you like this…”

Sasha shook her head, taking his hand and leading him in. “You have nothing to feel sorry about, okay? Plus, you came to the right place if you really needed these answers. Connie has known Jean for a very long time.”

“And he hasn’t called me yet, that dork.” Connie crossed his arms. “I don’t know if he’s back in Jersey or what. I wanted to see baby pictures of Hannah’s kid!”

“Connie, focus.” Sasha held his shoulders. “Alright. Marco, like we said, we’ll help you. Just tell us what you want to hear.”

Marco nodded. “Okay… first of all, who is he?”

Connie pointed for a minute and his lips parted to speak. He quickly closed them, though. “Well, that was kind of an awkward time to ask that. Considering that he hasn’t been calling me recently and I’m not happy about that.” He exhaled. He had to focus. “Okay. Jean is a painter. At least, he is in his free time when he does commissions for people in the neighborhood. That’s his first love. Now, as a career, he is involved in graphic design. He’s been doing a lot of projects now after being in New York City for _King’s Guard insurance_.”

“At least he did a good job advertising it,” Sasha interjected. “’Kay, Marco. Have a seat here.”

There was a video game start menu playing on the screen. He didn’t recognize the game at all, of course, but he sat down on the couch anyways. “So, he does both still?”

There was a nod from Connie. “At least I think he does, as far as I know.”

Marco rubbed his chin. He supposed that he didn’t get the time to shave recently, judging by the surprisingly scruffy beard that he felt. “And the reason why he left was because I told him to?”

“You thought that would be better for his career. And I guess it really worked out in the end.” He sighed softly. “He is a very busy guy. Doing a lot of ads for companies and being involved with several clients. It took a lot to actually get him to leave and go back to Jersey for a while to rest.”

“It must still be stressful for him, I suppose,” she sighed. “He had a hard time getting to know the coworkers at his first job up north. And now he travels around a lot. Mostly in the northeast.”

The brunette sighed heavily. “Well he’s happy right?” There was no answer after that. It made him nervous. “Right?”

“I… guess you can say that,” Connie mumbled. “He’s just a really busy guy, you know? Kid needs a break.”

“I liked him better when he painted all the time,” Sasha pouted. “He’s so boring now.”

“When was the last time you talked to him?”

“Last month,” they said in unison.

“Too busy with overly priced water bottle labels and intricacy to hang out with us common folk.”

Marco pursed his lips. “I see.”

Sasha turned her head towards the kitchen. “Hey uh, are you hungry, Marco?”

He shook his head. “I just wanna ask one more thing. What exactly was our relationship like?”

Connie looked down. “Do I really have to say it?”

She said it for him instead. “I honestly thought that you two were soul mates. And also, to be completely honest, we were all kinda pissed at you for breaking it off with Jean. You two were perfect, and I don’t even like being in or talking about relationships.”

Marco froze. “Are you serious? Then why would I end it?”

“I think, other than you saying that you wanted him to move on with his career, you said something along the lines of, it was better this way because you were just a burden on everyone around you.”

“Petty stuff like that,” Connie added.

The brunette froze. “Wha—hey!”

“It’s true,” Sasha sighed. “I’m assuming that you know much better today than you would have known eight months ago.”

“Thank you, therapy!”

“Hell yeah to that,” Marco admitted. “So I really said that to Jean?”

They both nodded. “And the breakup was so ugly.”

“So fucking ugly,” Connie sighed. “Poor Jean was crying for hours when he got home. I had to comfort him by rubbing his back and trying to whisper soothing shit. It was gross.”

“Yeah, you wouldn’t have wanted to be there during that.”

Marco ran a hand through his hair. “Are you serious?” He breathed deeply. “If I was able to see myself from eight months ago, I think I’d want to punch him in the face.”

“I’d join you,” Sasha shrugged. “A little punch wouldn’t hurt… much.”

Marco shook his head. “This is so bad… He’s miserable, isn’t he?”

She nodded. “To put it plainly.”

He happened to then glance at the room that used to be Jean’s studio. Now it was full of a video game shelves and consoles. He happened to stare at it longingly because of the view of the ocean from the window. That completely drew him in, and he was mesmerized by it. He walked into the room. “So he used to live here?” he asked distantly.

Connie nodded. “He and I both did. And we split the mortgage. We still do for some reason. Jean started paying again. Kinda great actually.”

“That means he’s too rich for his own good!” Sasha smacked him on the back of the head. “Seriously, he could’ve done such better use with his money. You know what I mean? He could be in a mansion right now!”

“I don’t think he makes _that_ much money, Sasha.”

As the two of them argued, Marco glanced around at the studio. He felt like there was something else here before.

“This was his art studio,” Connie then intervened, seeing that he was so interested in it. “He painted the view of the beach from these windows, and he also did some commission work.” He gestured over at the desk. “Right there. He left that here during the move. I guess the U-Haul wasn’t big enough for it.”

The brunette slowly felt the futon that was at the back wall. The material was so soft, and he felt a little nostalgic. He couldn’t remember being in this room at all. And yet, as he absorbed the scenery of it, it gave him such a longing feeling. Such a deep sigh of relief, like he’d missed being in here.

He looked at the couple again. “Is some of his work here?”

They nodded. “There is a painting of the beach in the living room,” Sasha said.

Connie pondered a bit. “Wasn’t there a painting of the bakery at Braun’s Pastries?”

“Oh yeah!” she smiled. “There’s that too. A while back he did a commission for Reiner, painting the bakery and having it in his store.”

There was one journal entry that Marco remembered looking at this morning where he mentioned a beautiful painting right over the door at Braun’s Pastries. He didn’t write down who the artist was, and shockingly enough, it just so happened to be his ex-boyfriend.

“There’s also… something else that he left here. He didn’t bring it with him to New York.”

“What was it, Connie?”

He glanced at Sasha. “Should I show him?”

“I mean, if you want,” she shrugged. “I honestly don’t care. I still stare at it from time to time.”

“…Yep. We’re gonna show him it then.”

“Aw, come on!”

Marco had absolutely no idea what they were talking about. “Seriously, what is it?”

Sasha glanced over. “Connie, get it out of the closet.”

“What? Why do I have to…” he trailed off and groaned. “Fine. I’ll get it, your royal sweetness.” He reluctantly went over to the closet.

“Thanks, gumdrop.” The two of them had awkward pet names for each other out of their own amusement. It pissed the both of them off so much that neither of them stopped. And it added some fun to living with each other the past eight months. She glanced back. “C’mon, it’s a giant naked portrait! It can’t be _that_ hard to find!”

“Will you fucking _chill_ , woman?! I’m getting it!”

Marco had quickly covered his mouth. “Giant…naked…portrait?”

“Yep. Stark naked.” Connie finally got the portrait out of the closet and showed it. He sighed. “Look. There it is.”

The brunette’s eyes widened. It was definitely a giant naked portrait. Not only that, it was a giant naked portrait of him. He posed for this and let some man paint it? Well… it wasn’t just “some man,” but that might as well be the case if he just meets him like this every single day.

“That’s…me,” he whispered and stared at it. There was a lot of detail, but at the same time there wasn’t really anything sexual about it. It was so casual and at the same time sweet. He really liked it, and the confidence that he could see in his own features. “Wow… this is really good. He painted this?”

Sasha nodded. “And you paid him a hundred-five dollars for it to be done. Very nice commission. But you told him to keep it here for now for when you’d be able to look at it later when you come over to see him… This was done pretty much eight months ago, a week before you two broke up.”

He shook his head and his eyes watered. “Do you have any pictures of him here?”

“Just one,” Connie answered. “We were on the beach, the four of us. We took a group picture together. ‘S in the living room.”

Marco nodded and slowly walked back in there. It was on a shelf right next to the large television. Just an ordinary picture frame, but Marco could see from where he stood the bright scenery of the beach, and the carefree smiles of four people setting up a campfire.

It was when he got closer that he could figure out who the people were. He saw himself smiling and holding up a beer bottle while Connie was building the fire and giving Sasha a look, who was in the foreground grinning as she held the camera to get each of them in the image. The fourth person smiling, that had an arm around Marco’s waist and his head resting on his shoulder and he was just too short to get up any higher when standing up… He looked just like the man he saw in his dream.

They were both happy. “He’s… god,” he gasped. “He’s adorable.”

Connie snorted. “Of all the attractive adjectives in the world, he picked ‘adorable.’ Can you believe that, Sasha?”

She shrugged. “Makes sense.”

Marco kept staring at the picture. Jean looked like he was everything that he himself probably wasn’t. What had he been thinking?

He wiped his eyes and stared at the picture. “Why was I so stupid?”

Sasha draped her arm over his shoulders. “You weren’t thinking clearly, I think. You just thought that it’d be for the best if you two stopped seeing each other. Sure, you helped Jean move on with his career, but he’s fucking miserable.”

“I dunno about you, buddy.” Connie crossed his arms. “How’s your life going other than therapy?”

He blinked. “I’m going to New York City for a few weeks to train with Mylius Zeramuski. He’s gonna teach me a few things before I go down to Jersey and help him out with one of his smaller businesses.”

“Jersey sucks,” he whined. “I hope you at least like all the water, though.”

Marco shrugged. “Do you think that I should try and find Jean?”

They both froze. Obviously they didn’t like that idea at all, after everything Jean went through to try and move on.

“Of course, as your friend I would tell you, ‘hell no!’” Sasha confessed. “But if I had to tell you what you want to hear, I’d say that it’s up to you. But I highly suggest that you think about it rationally. _Please_ , don’t just jump into things.”

He gave a half-hearted nod. He didn’t think that he probably would follow through with his plan anyways. He was only going up north for business, just like Jean had done… not by choice, anyways.

He took a deep breath and looked at the portrait again. “Alright,” he sighed, responding to his friend. “Also… do you think I can take that painting home with me? I wanna bring it to New York.”

“Take it, _please_!” Connie groaned, handing it to him. “It’s just sitting there!”

He took the portrait and gingerly held it. “Thank you for talking to me.”

“No problem,” Sasha grinned, leaning against Connie like he was an inanimate ledge. “Have fun in New York. And don’t be afraid to call us!”

“I’ll call, I promise!” he smiled and walked out. He put the painting in the back. He wanted to see Reiner today, even though he knew he basically left his job. He wanted to get another insight, and he also wanted to see the painting that Connie and Sasha were talking about.

It didn’t take long for him to get to Braun’s Pastries, and he pulled into the parking lot. Reiner was rather surprised by Marco’s sudden entrance, and he had just finished an order for the last customer of the rush.

“Hey, Marco,” he greeted. “What’s going on?”

“Listen, I need to talk to you about something.” Marco stepped over to the counter. “You see, last night I had this dream of man that I had never seen before. And after talking to my sister and Krista, and Sasha and her friend Connie, I found out that the man that was in my dream was Jean Kirschtein.”

“Jean Kirschtein?” The blonde snorted after repeating him in surprise. “Impossible. You haven’t seen him in eight months, how could you possibly remembering him?”

“I don’t know, Reiner!” He didn’t mean to raise his voice. He just heard that question all day and all he wanted was answers. “Sorry. I really don’t. I just came here to ask if I can see that painting he made of the bakery.”

He nodded his head. “Uh, sure…” He pointed to the door. “It’s right over the door when people first look back at it from the counter. A lot of people really like it.”

Marco turned back to see it. And he could definitely see why. There was so much detail in the painting. The little picture frames on the walls, the pastries that were on display. The people that were waiting for their food. Reiner was taking out some muffins, and there seemed to be not a single flaw. Even Marco was given so much detail, and he was just making one of the hundreds of Ymir’s birthday cakes.

“Wow…” That was all he could bring himself to say.

Reiner looked over. “If you want you can also see his graphic design works.” He took out his phone, and on it was an image of the logo for _King’s Guard Insurance._ Of course Marco looked at it. “Jean did the calligraphy.

“That's amazing," he gasped. "He's really good at what he does then."

"Yeah, and you saw that in him." Reiner put his phone away. "Jean did so much for you while you were dating. It really was a shame that you chose to break up with him."

"Everyone has been at me all day about that," Marco groaned. "That was before therapy, right? That I told him to go?"

"You'd just started it. At your first session you told Dr. Zacharius that you did not want to be a burden on him anymore."

"But I was _wrong_ back then!" He frustratingly gripped at his hair. "I know better now! I'm not a burden, and I intend to mean it each time I wake up in the morning. I can't believe I thought that."

“Marco, there’s nothing you can really do about this,” he said. “This happened eight months ago. The damage has long been done.” He ran a hand through his hair. “What even was the dream about?”

He hid his face for a moment. “Now I can’t really remember most of it,” he groaned. “But… I do remember that we were at a beach, and he was really happy to see me. And at some point in the dream… We kissed.”

Reiner nodded. “I still think the dream is a little strange. Maybe Dr. Zacharius can talk to you about it the next time you see him.”

The brunette nodded and stared at the ground. He had a thought, and it was a really crazy one. “I think… Maybe I had this dream because there is a part of me that still loves Jean, even if that feeling is only temporary.”

“Marco, don’t get mad at me for this, but that’s crazy,” he said honestly. “Does ‘eight months’ mean anything to you? That’s a lot of time apart, Marco.”

“I know, but… Maybe there’s a way that I can see him again? He went the extra mile for me to make me fall in love with him each day. So why can’t I do the same to try and at least become friends again? Even just only talk to him once, I don’t fucking care if it takes an infinite amount of introductions. I will live through that infinity if I could.”

“Listen to yourself.” Reiner held his shoulders. “Marco, look at me. Do you know how crazy you sound? There’s no way that something like that would work… or even happen.”

“You don’t know that!” His eyes started to water. “I might not remember him when I wake up, but something felt right in that dream. Sure, it seems impossible, but it could happen! I’ve been keeping this writing in my journal stored for when I need to remember things. There’s always room for more. And I… I think there is a part of me that wants to find him again and grow old him. It’s a very scary thought, feeling that way about a man that I haven’t even met. I mean, I know now that I’ve met him, but you know what I mean. But somehow, I know him. I think the feelings I had are in my heart. That’s where that emotion is stored.”

Reiner was still giving him a strange look, and as Marco was hearing himself out loud, he really was talking nonsense. He bit his lip.

“I’m sorry, Reiner… I know this all sounds really ridiculous. Nothing is going to change the fact that I decided to leave him eight months ago and now have no way to remember what we had done in our relationship. But he is in my dreams, and I can’t do anything about it. And I feel like the only way I can resolve this is if I find him, as much as that really sucks when saying it out loud.”

The blonde sighed and rubbed his friend's arm. "I’m sorry. I’m just trying to look after you and make sure that you are making the right choices here. You really broke Jean’s heart. Don’t go through with this out on a whim.”

“That’s not what I want to do,” he confessed. “I’m really serious about this, Reiner.” Knowing that the man was broken hearted made him wince. He couldn’t believe he had gone through with this eight months ago.

“Just… Know you’re making the right decision,” he murmured. “And if you ever do see Jean again, let him know that you are serious about seeing him again."

Marco nodded. "I will. I promise I will. Don't worry." He glances over at the time. "I'd better get home, Reiner," he said softly. "Pa is making dinner, and I'd better get the drinks."

"Oh yeah?" Reiner asked. "What's the occasion?"

"Hmm..." He rubbed his chin. "I think Ymir and Krista are coming over? At least that's what it said in my journal. It's gotta be great news."

"You're right." The blonde went back behind the counter. "I'm gonna go and make a cake for them then. They'll be excited for that."

"Speaking of that, have you found anyone yet that will replace me once I go up to New York?"

He shook his head. "Not yet. But there are a couple of people that really want to take the job. But I dunno."

"Hire both of them," Marco smiled. "You're gonna need all the help you can get, y'know?"

"Yeah, you're right." Reiner waved him off. "Say hi to your dad and pa for me."

"I will!" He hurried out the door. It had started to rain a little while there'd been an overcast all day. He wasn't sure what the weather was like the day of his accident, but whatever it was, it was spooking him either way. He was already getting worried that he was going to get hit like that. What would happen? He supposed he could wait until the rain stopped, but that wasn't ideal.

 _Stop being a big baby,_ he muttered to himself. _It happened three years ago. You're a grown man, you have to face that fear._

He got into his car, staring straight ahead as he started up the ignition. He could do this. It wasn't that hard. He was almost twenty-five years old. He was fully capable of driving in the rain.

After more self-motivation, he got over it and drove home. He drove like normal, a little slow on the road though because of hydroplaning. He went down the familiar road home, and coming up to the driveway, he froze when seeing a police car parked in his usual spot.

"...What?" He pulled over off to the side and got out. "Dad?" He rushed inside. "Pa? What's going on?"

"Marco?"

He heard Levi's voice. He rushed into the living room, seeing his dad sitting there with two police officers next to him on both sides. He recognized them easily. They regularly went to the bakery.

"Officer Pixis... Officer Shadis. What's going on?"

Officer Pixis spoke first. "Marco, have a seat."

Levi looked like he was trying so hard to keep a good composure. His normally stoic stare was shaky.

"Dad?" Marco inched closer. He never got like this. "Dad, what's wrong?"

"Just listen to the officers, Marco," he said softly. He looked like he already knew.

The younger bit his lip, and he looked at the officers again. He repeated his question, a little more stern. "What's going on?"

Officer Shadis spoke first. "Marco, there was an accident."

His heart stopped. "A-an accident?" he stammered. "Who was involved?"

"It was a hit and run." It was Officer Pixis' turn. This was hard for the two of them to say this, because they knew how Marco was going to react. They could tell that he was nervous, because of Levi's emotional state. That put him on edge. "We are tracking down the license plate of the driver who ran, but the injuries on the other driver are very severe. But I'm sure your pa will be just fine."

_I'm sure your pa will be just fine..._

That phrase already terrified Marco. "Pa?" he gasped. "Dad, what's wrong with Pa?!"

"Marco, that's enough!" Levi raised his voice, if it wasn't shaky enough.

_I'm sure your pa will be just fine..._

"Dad, I wanna see Pa!" he begged. "I wanna see him!"

He got up and walked to Marco. "You'll get to see him, we're waiting for Krista and Ymir."

"I want to see him now!" His eyes watered. "They're not gonna be here for like three hours!"

His cheek suddenly stung, and he held onto it tight. He stared at his dad, who had been eye level with him and staring at him with an igniting rage in his gaze.

"Marco, get a grip!" he snapped. "You will see him later! Grow the fuck up!" He exhaled heavily, as if to calm down. "He's fine, okay? The officers just said that he was."

His father had never struck him before. Sure he was twenty-four and really upset, but Levi never hit him or Ymir. He was either really angry or really upset, so he quickly nodded, calming down.

"Y-yeah," Marco said softly. "He's fine..."

_I'm sure your pa will be just fine..._

They kept getting updates on how Erwin was doing, as they waited for Krista and Ymir to arrive. Those three hours felt like ages. Levi just felt that it would be best for all of them to see him as a family.

Just like the officers had said, he was doing okay. In the meantime Marco stayed in his room and vigorously wrote in his journal. He needed to record this day. Everything about it. What happened with finding out about Jean, his plan on trying to see him again... His pa. He had to put that down too. He just hoped that he would get out of the hospital soon and get back to his normal self.

"He's fine..." he said shakily. "He's fine. P-Pa's gonna be fine."

_I'm sure your pa will be just fine..._

If the officers said so, and his dad said so, then it had to be true. He finally heard his sister and her partner come in the house. He sighed in relief and bit his lip. He had to see his Pa now. He greatly anticipated this and quickly went downstairs, just as Krista was staring at the officers in shock. Ymir looked just as tense as Levi did.

This really scared him.

"C-can we see Pa now?" Marco stammered. "I wanna see him..."

Levi had his head lowered. "You can't see Pa now, Marco..."

He froze. "Why not? Ymir and Krista are here now. Why can't see we him?"

His dad kept his head down, his short hair hiding his face like drapery. He shook his head. "He was killed on impact."

Ymir and Krista did not look as shocked about hearing this as Marco did. Did that mean... they already knew? Marco's heart sank. His stomach flipped.

"W-what?" His eyes were watering again. "What do you mean?"

"He's dead, Marco." Ymir stammered.

He quickly shook his head. "He can't be! They were saying all this time that he's fine!"

"We said that to protect you," Levi mumbled as they officers left. They already left all the condolences they could. "We didn't want you getting upset before Krista and Ymir got here, okay?"

There was no bite in Levi's voice. There was no stern tone nor an edge to his remark. His voice sounded... empty.

Marco saw how defeated his dad looked. He saw his tense shoulders relax limply. He saw the pain in his clenched fists. And Marco mirrored that. How else was he supposed to react?

Krista was already a mess, holding Ymir's hand tight as she was leaning into her pregnant partner for comfort. Marco had no one to hold as tears were stinging at his eyes.

Neither did Levi.

Marco slowly moved closer to his dad, seeing him shake. He had been keeping it in. He obviously knew right when the officers first visited, and they kept it from him when he'd asked what was wrong. He had tried to stay composed then. But now they all knew. There was no reason why he should still hold it all in.

The words were still echoing.

_I'm sure your pa will be just fine..._

That couldn't be any farther from the truth. "D-dad...?" He looked at him and held his hand out, seeing one of his hands relax against his side. He slowly took it. "Dad... I-it will be okay... Right?" He had a hard time believing that himself, with how grim this was now.

Levi just squeezed his hand. What else could he do? Erwin was gone. Erwin. His partner, the father of his children, his lover... his best friend. The man he met almost thirty years ago on a fateful trip to New Orleans. The one he fell in love with just a closing of the shutter on a Polaroid camera. His supporting pillar.

What was he going to do now?

The only thing he could think of was clinging to his son. The heavy weight in his heart made it impossible to stay afloat, and he was knocked down by the storm.

This was the first time Ymir and Marco had ever seen their dad cry.

That made them break down as well, with Marco holding him close as if his life depended it.

Too much emotion, too much grief. Things were almost hopeless now. Time stood still.

They had to now put everything on hold.

\--

 

_April 2, 2015_

_…5:30 p.m. – Pa died. He was killed on impact, and Dad and the_ _police waited until the girls got here so that we could all hear at once. They said that it was caused by hydroplaning. I didn’t get to see Pa once today. And the worst part is that tomorrow, I’m gonna wake up thinking Pa would be there. I’m gonna ask Dad where he is if I haven’t seen him all day, and he’s gonna just sit there with that empty look again._

_I never wanna see Dad cry again._

_I told Mr. Zeramuski what happened. He said that he was sorry for my loss and that I didn’t have to leave on the fifth. I’m not sure if I should even go through with the job now. I feel like I should just stay here with my family._

_Krista and Ymir wanted to tell the three of us that they found out the baby is going to be a boy. Pa will never be able to see his first grandson._

_Dad said that the funeral is going to take place next Tuesday, the seventh. And I am not looking forward to when he says his eulogy. Ymir’s going to help him with the plans because I just can’t think of that without crying. Why Pa? Why did it have to be him? And it wasn’t even anyone’s fault._

_I miss him so fucking much already._

\--

 _Jean woke up early in the_ morning. It took a while for him to commute from his new home in Jersey. By new, that meant he bought a little house in December after he completed his job with Nile. After the whole incident at the bar, only Dennis and Petra still talked to him. No one else would ever go near him, and he didn’t blame them.

Hitch was upset about the tattoo. They all were. But now he was stuck with the reminder of the feelings he had for his old flame that rekindled on the frail candle. His name over his heart. He had to look at it everyday and realize what a careless mistake he made. So the large bandage his mother later left him in a first aid kit was rather useful.

Except this early morning unlike the others took place on a dingy couch. The half-naked man in the kitchen making coffee led him to assume that instead of returning home after the company party the night before he stayed at a colleague’s.

As he got dressed the other man walked in with a full mug. “Hey, happy birthday.”

He rubbed his head. “It’s my birthday?”

“Yeah. April third.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Seventh.”

His coworker, Zach, laughed at his mistake and blushed. “Sorry. Looks like I really need coffee this morning too.”

“Hey, it’s cool.” He took the coffee mug from him and took a couple sips. “God, I think I drank too much last night. Got any Advil?”

“I always do.” Zach went back in the kitchen. “Want me to drive you to work?”

He shrugged. “I’m thinking of taking off soon. For my birthday.”

“Yeah, you’ve been working too hard.” He walked down the hall to get dressed. “But what about _today_ , Jean?”

“Ehh I’ll take a sick day.” He crossed his arms.

“Sounds nothing like you.” There was a chuckle following that statement. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing. Just not in the mood deal with people’s bullshit.”

“Ah.” Zach threw on his jacket. “Drive safely, ‘kay? You’re welcome to stay for as long as you need to.”

“Thanks.” He waved him off and just sat on the couch. Eventually he had to get up. But he really preferred to just stay here. Zach had a nicer TV. But of course nothing was on. So he showered.

He wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself. Believe it or not, this was his first day off since he finished his job with Nile. And after that he had many more jobs. He mostly helped with remastering and editing old logos, and once he even got paid big bucks by a lawyer to design the logo for her firm. That was fun.

All these jobs were great and he got paid big money and all. But yeah, he honestly didn’t like the people he ended up working with. He hated them.

Zach was okay, though. He didn’t piss him off.

After a little bit of just putzing around the house, he figured that maybe he should go home, back to his little house along the bay at Ocean Gate. Not that his job at Edison wasn’t fun. Actually, it really wasn’t.

He couldn’t tell when the last time he painted was. He was starting to really hate his job. It took up most of his life now. And let’s not forget that no one wanted a guy that had a tattoo of his ex-boyfriend’s name on his chest. That was too much “baggage,” or whatever people called it these days. That assured him one thing. He should never try and get back home while drunk off his ass.

His cell phone rang in his pants pocket. He took it out and saw a number that he never thought he’d see again.

“…Reiner?” He stared at his phone. “Should I answer…?” His phone was still ringing. He’d might as well. It might be important. He quietly answered it. “Hello?”

There was no answer at first. “Jean. I didn’t think you’d answer. How are you?”

“You never call me,” Jean muttered. “What do you want?”

He heard a soft sigh. Reiner seemed hesitant to say what he had to tell him. “Erwin died.”

Jean stiffened. “No… N-not—” _Not Erwin..._ “Shit.” Why was he getting so upset over this? He cleared his throat. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Levi wants you to come to the funeral.” Reiner said that so casually. “He didn’t have your number.”

“Why would _Marco’s dad_ want me anywhere near their family again?”

“Jean, this is not about you!” Hearing his response made Jean flinch. “Listen. Levi is heartbroken. No one has ever seen him like this. He needs all the help he can get. We all do. He wants you to come. He needs your help, Jean.”

“But why _me_?”

“Take what happened to you and Marco,” he then said. “Take how your relationship ended and multiply it by fifty. Add onto it that his daughter’s life partner is pregnant with his grandson, and they need all the financial support they can get. Also there is Marco. You are the only one besides them and his therapist that knows how to help him each day. Levi is used to having Erwin with him so that they can take care of everything as a team. He was his support. Now that it’s gone, you can see why he really needs help. Do you understand now?”

“But I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” He looked down. “I don’t want to see Marco.”

“I know you don’t…” Reiner trailed off. “It’s really hard on their family, okay? Levi is not the only one that’s distraught by this. Marco has to wake up every morning and have to be reminded that his father died. And Levi and Ymir have to live with that reminder. I’m not saying that you have to be there for Marco. Just be there to offer support. Levi really wants you to come.”

Jean sighed heavily. He really didn’t want to go back, but he also didn’t want to be here. “When’s the funeral?”

“Tuesday, the seventh.”

Of fucking course. His birthday.

“Happy birthday to me,” he muttered. “Alright. I’ll go. I’m only there for you guys.”

“I understand,” he responded. “I’ll let Levi know you’re coming. He’ll really appreciate it.”

“I’ll be there tomorrow. Just let me pack and fly over, find a hotel.”

“Don’t worry about that. Bertholdt and I are gonna take you in. We have a place where you can stay.”

Jean nodded. “Thank you. Send my condolences to Levi.”

“I will, Jean.”

He hung up and sighed heavily. He called for a cab while sitting right at Zach’s porch. Later he had to tell his mom that he was going there for this.

He was going to need a lot of alcohol and nicotine to get through this week coming up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so fucking sorry for this, I am crying.


	14. The Funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter: This has to be the longest week of Jean's life. And the most eventful one at that.
> 
> Content Warning: Angry sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that even though there is an angry sex scene in this chapter where things get rather rough, it is completely consensual and both parties agreed to it.

_“I'm coming up only to hold you under_

_And coming up only to show you're wrong_

_And to know you is hard; we wonder..._

_To know you all wrong; we warn.” -_

_The Funeral – Band of Horses_

* * *

 

**April 3 rd**

_He was so not ready for_ this. He was not ready to return to Miami after eight months being back up north. He wasn’t even sure how anybody would react to him being there. All he knew was that Levi wanted him to come to the funeral. Erwin’s funeral…

This was most likely going to be the worst weekend in existence and quite possibly the worst birthday ever. He was officially turning twenty-four and not faking his age months early just to get some respect from his coworkers.

When he told Hitch that he was going to Florida again, she told him to bring a condom or two. And god, he really wished he didn’t tell her at that moment. Oh well. The damage had been done, to say the least.

This time he took a plane there. It saved him a lot of time, and he knew that he probably should get there early so that they could all properly prepare for the funeral. He’d called Reiner after getting to the airport to find out where he and Bertholdt lived. He only met his life partner once, and he thought that this was going to be interesting.

He finally got to Maria Community Apartment Homes, building 23 and found the number 104. Good he didn’t get lost. With his suitcases in hand he went up and knocked on the door. He took a deep breath when hearing the quick, thundering footsteps to answer it.

Reiner waved casually. “Welcome back, Jean.”

He gave him a short nod. “Hey…”

“Well, c’mon up.” He took him inside and upstairs. “How’ve you been? I haven’t really checked on you since New Year’s.”

Jean lugged his bags up the stairs. “Alright, I guess. Bringing home money, getting recognition… So yeah.”

“Paint anything recently?”

“…No,” he mumbled while Reiner led him to the guest room right across from theirs. It was pretty cozy.

“I see,” Reiner replied. “I have only one rule for you. No smoking inside. It really irritates Bert’s asthma.”

“Alright, no problem.” Jean was already starting to pack. “How’s Levi doing?”

“He’s really hurting, but he’s getting there,” Reiner explained. “It’s been really hard on him.”

“I can only imagine.” He sat on the bed. “Ymir and them. Are they okay?”

Reiner shrugged. “Ymir and Krista live in Fort Lauderdale now. They’re in town because of what happened with Erwin. But they’re strong girls. And Marco… the past two days he was hysterical. You know how it is, everyday he has to find it all out all over again.”

“I can’t help but feel bad…”

He still did not want to see him.

“How is that asshole doing, anyway?” He meant it to poke fun, but Reiner still gave him a hard look either way.

“Other than what’s been going on recently, he’s doing alright. The therapy really helped him a lot. Major breakthroughs, to be honest. Dr. Zacharius is a real miracle worker.”

Jean nodded. “Well at least that’s working out for him, y’know?”

“We’re all really grateful for that.”

Jean rubbed his eyes and put his bags away. “What’s for dinner?”

Reiner shrugged. “Bert’s bringing home takeout. He’ll be here in a few minutes.”

“Alright.”

After seeing he was all set, Reiner walked out, leaving Jean alone to look around the new room he was staying in. It was nice and all, and it had one little window. It wasn’t as close to the beach a he was normally used to. But it was a nice place. They must really care about how their place looked.

He heard more footsteps approach the living room and there was a pleasant greeting. Bertholdt must be home. Great, because he was starving. Then he heard sounds that let him know that they were probably _very_ excited to see each other.

He wasn’t hungry anymore.

He groaned and turned on his side. He checked his phone to see if he got anything from his boss. Nope. And out there they were not getting any quieter. So much for being civil. This was fucking perfect. He was rooming with a couple of sex junkies. Well, at least they were happy. That was “important,” after all. He was probably just really sore for still being single. At least that was what everyone told him whenever he got so annoyed when seeing couples acting all lovey dovey when he was around.

He heard moans from across the hall. Yep, definite not hungry.

_Good fucking night._

\--

**April 4 th**

_The first night here he barely_ got any sleep. He blamed that solely on the two monkeys that decided to give him shelter for the week. Now that the day had passed, he was ready to go and see Levi. He’d wanted him to come over, and he figured he really should check on how he was doing.

And when he knocked on the door and saw him answer looking so tired and barely focusing, he could tell that he was not doing so hot.

“Hey… Mr. Ackerman.”

Levi shook his head. “Just call me Levi…”

Wow, he really was upset. It was almost scary.

“Okay…”d He trailed off. “I have to ask… Why did you want me to come? That’s probably the one thing that’s really confusing me.”

He took him inside, and he sat down in a chair. “I want you to take pictures at the funeral. No one else, just you.”

Jean blinked. “You sure you want that? Why?”

“Marco needs to see that visual proof. You know he does,” he said softly. “He’ll want to see it. That way we’ll then show him. Pictures of the funeral.”

He nodded. “And I guess you think I’m the only one that will take this event seriously?”

“I do.” Levi rubbed his brow. “I don’t trust anyone else other than Dr. Hanji and Dr. Zacharius when it comes to Marco.”

“It took the relationship failing and eight months of being apart for you to trust me?”

“It was after the videos that I started to,” he mumbled. “Erwin always said that you were a good guy. No one else since you saw any interest in taking care of Marco in a real relationship. They were mostly tourists, but Samuel Linke-Jackson… Erwin never liked him. I figured it was because he and his father hated each other. His intuition is better than you’d think, though.”

Jean didn’t want to ask. He sat down across from him. “So about the funeral. Where is it going to be at?”

“A small funeral home not far from here.” Levi was a little distant. “…It’s really hard, you know. I can’t imagine not having that big blockhead around.”

The blonde nodded. “I can’t even imagine what it must be like.”

He crossed one leg over the other. “We’d been together for almost thirty years… Maybe longer. Thinking about that makes me feel grateful for my parents dragging me down to New Orleans. Although they were upset when I decided that I wasn’t gonna come back with them.” He chuckled dryly. “They told me ‘Don’t do it. You’ll ruin your life staying down here for a guy you just met at Mardi Gras.’ Well, they didn’t know that we’d already went on three dates and had sex in the restroom at a diner.”

“Wow, you were a rebel!” Jean couldn’t help but laugh. “Damn.”

“All the more reason why I wanted to make sure my children were making the right decisions,” he shrugged. “We’ve moved all around the South. I think Marco told you. And when we were settling down in Arkansas we decided we wanted children. We were together I think nine years… And that’s how we adopted Marco and Ymir.”

“I see…” Jean sighed. “I had to admit, I thought that you two were the perfect, old married couple.”

That got a tiny smug smile out of him. “Well hey, anyone can get a relationship like that. Meet anyone new?”

“That didn’t piss me off or actually liked me enough to get a nice conversation out of them? No.”

“Ah.” Levi got up. “Shame. You’re not that bad of a guy, I suppose. No one’s alone forever, you know. It’s impossible. Humans are social animals.”

Jean smiled and shook his head. “That’s true.”

He patted his shoulder. “It’s good to see you back down here, you know. Even if it’s only for a week.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I really missed everybody.”

“And you’d be surprised how many people missed you.”

Jean leaned back. He sincerely doubted that. “Alright, so you want me to take pictures. With what camera?”

“The Polaroid.” Levi rubbed his arm. “That way everything comes full circle.”

He didn’t understand what he meant, but he took it. He walked over to the door. “Okay. I’ll be back here on Sunday.”

“Thank you again for this,” Levi sighed. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” he insisted and then walked out. Going to a rental car he just got for his time here, he was suddenly stopped when bumping up to someone. He flinched back. “Whoa, buddy!”

“Hey man, I’m so sorry!”

“…Marco?”

The all too familiar brunette tilted his head. “Who are you?”

Oh yeah. That’s right.

“Don’t worry about it,” he muttered and opened the car door.

As if he would expect any less, of course Marco went to the door and blocked Jean from closing it. “Hey. That’s not exactly a civil introduction, especially since you know my name.”

“I said don’t worry, okay?” God, he couldn’t stand him. “Now get out of the way.”

Marco crossed his arms. “Can’t you at least give me a name?”

He already had. For about fifty days or so. He started the ignition. “Jean.”

“Jean…” Something clicked in his head. “Jean Kirschtein?”

His heart skipped a beat. He killed the engine a few seconds later. “…How the fuck?” Impossible…

“I saw your name in my journal,” he said.

That was impossible. There was no way his name was in his journal. He _watched_ him tear out all the pages that had any trace of his existence. He was the one that destroyed them in a _paper shredder._ He got out of the car. “How? Everything that we had done that you wrote in your journal was destroyed.”

He froze at that. So _that_ was why there was absolutely nothing about him in his journal. “It was an entry dated April 2nd, 2015 at 2 p.m. I saw you in my dreams. And I went to Connie and Sasha and Reiner for answers. They told me who your were and what you did while you were here in Florida.”

No… This was impossible. Jean gripped the car door. This was impossible.

_I saw you in my dreams…_

“Bullshit,” Jean muttered. “That’s bullshit. You couldn’t have seem me in your dreams. Or whatever the fuck you’re trying to tell me here. No fucking way.”

He saw Marco tense. “Wha… O-of course it’s true! Why would I make that up?”

“Because I am so done with all this that it’s not even funny. The only reason why I am down here is so that I can attend your pa’s funeral. Your dad wanted me to come. And that’s all.”

The brunette stiffened. “Wait… B-but I thought—”

“Whatever you thought, you’d better get off of that real quick.” He went to get in his car again.

Marco watched him start the car. “Are you fucking kidding me? So that’s it?!”

“What else did you expect?” he retorted.

“Maybe a more civil ‘hello?’ Or something along the lines of ‘How’ve you been?’ Perhaps a gentle ‘It’s nice seeing you again’ even if you don’t mean it?!” He clenched his fingers. “Look… I know what I did and breaking off the relationship was really shitty. I more than completely understand, okay? And I’m sorry, but—”

“But what?” He gave the brunette a hard stare. “You wanna make amends? You wanna apologize and settle our differences? You want us to talk again? I’m going to tell you one thing, and this is the only time you will hear it. I want nothing to do with you. So stop any and all of your plans you made on a whim.”

“That’s not what I’m doing!” This was so frustrating. There was no way to get through to him. “If you really hate me just say so!”

“Fine!”

It caught Marco off guard. “‘Fine,’ what? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means fine. I hate you. Happy?”

He stared down at the ground. This chance meeting went completely sour, and now he really wished he didn’t say anything. “…Not as happy as I thought I would be,” he said softly. “I’ll leave you alone from now on…”

“Good,” Jean muttered and pulled out of the driveway. “That’s what I wanted.”

He couldn’t stop the tears that were starting to well up. “Yeah…”

That was at least what Marco should have expected.

And now he realized that he was not going to get any less from him.

\--

**April 5 th**

_Jean used this time he had_ to reunite with his old friends. Of course, they were very grim reunions, but all the same difference. He played Call of Duty with Connie and Sasha mostly, as some kind of form of stress relief. It was a pretty good move to make, considering that Eren played live all the time on the weekends. All the more reason for all of them to come together and play in a tournament.

“Glad to see you’re doing better,” Sasha called as she was having a drink break. “You were like, really miserable the last time we talked to you.”

“Yeah, I know. But then I realized something.” He sighed and stretched his fingers a bit. They had been playing for three hours straight while talking to Eren and Armin via headsets. “Why should I be this upset? Really? It’s gonna do nothing for me but keep me miserable. So here I am. The new and improved, happy me.”

“The new you is still as big of a loser as before!”

“Who asked you, Eren?” He retorted, all for fun though. “You see?”

Connie rolled his eyes and still played the game. “Have you seen Marco yet?”

The blonde paused. “…Yes, I did. And that was quite a chance meeting, if I do say so myself. I was just taking to Levi and checking on him.”

“Mikasa’s taking over!” Armin called from his headset.

Soon her voice was heard in his ears. “Okay, so you talked to him. He didn’t mention anything about his journal, did he?”

He froze. “Wait, how did you guys know about that?”

“He talked to us about it.” Sasha sighed. “Judging by your question, I’m guessing that he did tell you about it. That was what we were afraid of.”

“Let me guess. You guys were supposed to be his voice of reason?” He rolled his eyes. “Nice job.”

“Hey, it isn’t easy trying to be a voice of reason for him when he is so set on something!”

Jean shrugged. “He’s not my problem anymore. We broke up eight months ago. Does that mean anything to you guys?”

The two of them shrugged.

“Apparently he doesn’t seem to care? I really don’t know, Jean.”

He heard Mikasa’s voice in his ears and sighed. “Well, if he’s putting his new journal to good use, that’s all well and good, right?”

“Right, I suppose.”

He gave a quick nod and turned his attention back to the game. A burning question started to distract him, though. If he was still using the journal, then there shouldn’t be a reason why he wouldn’t be using any other methods, right?

He thought back to the video, the one that he created for Marco when they were dating. He knew that Erwin and Levi both decided to create their own video to follow his method, since it had always been such a good supplement for him. He couldn’t help but wonder. So of course he asked his friends that were sitting beside him.

“Hey. Does Marco still use the video method?” He really hoped that it was a yes. He spent so much time on it that he hoped it still was being used, even if it might be changed because they weren’t together anymore.

“To be honest, I have no idea,” Connie sighed. “The first time we’ve seen him since you left was the day Erwin died. We don’t know anything. Neither do Eren, Armin, or Mikasa.”

Sasha nodded. “It’s kinda frustrating.”

“I see,” he sighed. “Maybe… Maybe I can check on them again? After all, I’m gonna be the photographer at the funeral.”

“Yeah, it’s worth a shot,” they insisted.

Jean nodded and handed the controller and headset to Sasha. “Here, you can play.”

Connie tilted his head. “Wait, where are you going?”

“I’m going to ask Marco.”

Sasha deadpanned. “After you just told him yesterday you hated him? No fucking way. Do you not understand that he writes literally everything in that journal? He _knows_ you said that you hate him, and he’s not going to let you get away with that.”

“He broke my fucking heart. Let’s call it even.” He noticed it was raining and sighed as he put his coat on. “I just wanna ask. Besides, we’re gonna see each other at the funeral home the night before anyways. What difference does it make?”

Connie raised his arms up. “I don’t know about you Sasha, but I’m so fucking done being the voice of reason here.”

“Yeah, I quit.” Sasha crossed her legs. “Do what you want, you crazy kids. See if we care!”

Jean rolled his eyes. “Love you guys too.” He walked out and pulled the hood over his head.

It seemed like a long ride to the bakery. He knew that he would be there, because what else would Marco be doing on a Sunday?

He used to know this road like the back of his hand. Then over time he started to not pay attention to the small marks in the skin and definition of his veins. Not so easy now to recall all the places and buildings around him on the way there. He took a deep breath, knowing he was going to need it.

His heart pounded after he pulled into the parking lot. He went in the bakery to find out that they weren’t all that busy at the moment. That was all well and good. No distractions, and he could get in and out of here much quicker.

Reiner noticed him come in first. He wasn’t too pleased. Well of course he had to tell him what he said once he got back to his and Bert’s apartment. And at first Marco is oblivious, just working on one of the cakes he needed to send out before five o’clock.

Jean always liked the way his hands looked when he was so busy concentrating.

He blinked and shook his head. He went over to Marco’s half of the counter and chuckled. This reminded him of the first couple weeks of their relationship, when he used to try getting a nice introduction out of him and get to know him more but it would always fail immensely.

“Hey there, stranger.” He crossed his arms and smirked.

Marco looked up. “How can I help you, sir?”

He shrugged. “I was actually hoping that you wouldn’t help me with an order.”

The brunette tilted his head. “What are you implying?”

Jean leaned against the counter. “Well you see, my name is Jean Kirschtein. And I have a few questions for you.”

That clicked immediately. “Jean Kirschtein…” Marco stared at him. This was the same man that got him to fall in love every single day. But he was also the same man that also said he hated him and wanted nothing to do with him. His stare hardened. “What are you doing here?”

“I just have a few questions,” he frowned. “So what methods do you use to help register everything in the morning?”

Not once did he relax. “...My journal. I write an entry in it every single day.”

Jean nodded. “Anything else? Like, any media? Audio?”

Marco shook his head. “No. Just my journal.”

The blonde stiffened. Defeat was written all over his face. “I… No video or anything?”

He shook his head. “No. Like I said, I just use my journal. Wouldn’t you think that a video takes up way too much time? I mean, after a while there’s just so much information on it that it can’t possibly be worth all that time. My journal works perfectly fine.

“…Not worth the time?”

That hurt. Surprisingly so. He couldn’t help the sudden sting and tried to bite his tongue.

“You know what else is not worth the time?” Marco interjected. “You trying to talk to me after all that bullshit you said you hated me. What, do you doubt my recovery or something?”

He flinched. “I didn’t say that at all.”

“I’m guessing you’re the one that made a video when we were dating, is that it? And you thought that I would still be using it?”

“Well not the same one,” he muttered. “But your parents said that they would edit me out of it and use it for you to make it more useful.”

Marco shook his head. “Why are you making all of this about you? Why are you trying to be a hero and making me the villain? I don’t want to be near you any more than you do, and you expect me to be sorry for you when you crawl back and ask if I still have a fraction of what you left behind? I don’t think so. This is my life. I’m living it how I want to. So stay out of it, Jean Kirschtein. I knew I made the right decision to kick you out of it.”

Wow. It felt like getting fisted in the heart over and over again until the pain was so numb that it was almost pleasant. And Jean had no idea whether to laugh it out or burst into tears.

“L-listen.” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “I’m only here because your dad wanted me to come. After this, I’ll be out of your hair. I’m sorry. I just wanted to ask that question…”

“And you did,” Marco sighed and went back to his work.

The blonde slowly nodded and bit his lip. “Yep…” God, damn all these tears to hell. He walked out of the bakery to go home.

What home? He realized this with a sudden pang. His home was in Ocean Gate, along the Barnegat Bay. He was only down here for the funeral. A grim reunion. And he wasn’t even sent here for the mourning. He needed to help Levi. And he really wanted to help Levi.

Maybe, as much as he hated to admit it, he wanted to see Marco, see how he was doing. Even if he didn’t want to be in a relationship. Once upon a time, he was in love with him. It might not be the same way now, but he still wanted to make sure he was okay. But if he didn’t want that, then fine.

He still had to act as if he was on business. He had a job to do here, and tomorrow he had to go and have wake. And that was going to be hell on earth.

\--

“Are you making anything for dinner tomorrow, Reiner?” Jean asked as they shared a whole pie of pizza in the living room.

Reiner nodded. “I got some really nice kieshes. They’re still at the bakery.”

Jean sighed. “Maybe I should have brought something useful.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But at least you brought yourself. That’s always good.”

The blonde rolled his eyes after hearing Bertholdt. “Yeah, ‘s easy for you to see. You don’t feel like you owe such a debt to society after getting into an ugly ass argument with your ex-boyfriend.”

Reiner sat back and flipped through the channels on their TV. “Well, let’s look at it like this. You said that you hate him. He said that he wants nothing to do with you and is glad that he got you out of his life. I say it’s a draw.”

“Thanks, Reiner.”

Bertholdt shook his head. “Connie and Sasha were right. You suck at listening to a voice of reason.”

“I love you too, Bert.” Jean ate another slice. The last one.

Reiner frowned. “Thanks for sharing with the rest of us.”

“You both got three slices each out of eight!”

“Yeah yeah, same difference.”

Jean threw a napkin at Reiner. “So when are you going to the dinner? And where even is it?”

“It’s a bit of a drive,” Bert admitted. “It’s at St. Rose funeral home in Wellington.”

“And we have to go there four times in two days? Fantastic,” he muttered sarcastically. “Why couldn’t Levi pick somewhere in Miami?”

Reiner shrugged. “He originally wanted the funeral in Louisiana. That was where he was born, that’s why. But of course he actually listens to his voice of reason. That’s Ymir, by the way.”

“But still…”

“You’ll be okay,” Bert smiled. “Now, make sure that the trash is taken out this time, okay?”

“Why is it my job?”

Reiner patted his shoulder and grinned. “Hey, you’re the one that thinks he’s staying here for free. No harm in adding some chores in the mix.”

“Yeah yeah, fuck off,” he groaned and got up. He had a shitload of trash to take out before he could do anything else with his time.

\--

**April 6 th**

_The morning brought the slight drizzle_ outside that was gently rapping at Jean’s window. As the hours passed and he became more aware of the weather, he noticed that the light drizzle was quickly taking a dark turn.

And he was supposed to drive out to Wellington in this.

The weather called for torrential downpour all day, up until five in the morning tomorrow. Which meant it was going to be shit getting there and shit getting back home to sleep, only to wake up bright and early to do the same thing tomorrow. Hopefully the weather was not going to be like this tomorrow at the funeral.

It was a long day. Everyone had work beforehand, and the wake was supposed to be at six. There were going to be many people there, mainly Erwin’s family. He preferred that he’d just stay by his friends though. Those people could have been something more to him. But now they were Marco’s grief-stricken cousins, and young family members that didn’t remember him but came for the ride.

Reiner, Bertholdt, Connie, Sasha, Mikasa, Eren, and Armin were all going. That was pretty obvious, so Jean was going to stay by them.

Marco was scared to drive out in the rain. Today the shock of finding out Erwin’s death and having to attend his wake on the night before the last day he could ever see his pa was too much. So Levi didn’t mind taking him there.

Meanwhile, Jean was having a hard time trying to get ready for the damn thing, let alone find out the directions and how to get there. Shit, he needed to set up his GPS. That reminded him. And he had to help Reiner and Bertholdt figure out what they wanted to wear to it. And that was annoying and took about fifty minutes.

The couple went on their own ten minutes before he did, so he had to figure out a way to get there from Reiner’s apartment by himself. He ended up taking a longer way there than anticipated, being twenty minutes late to. And upon arrival, of course Levi gave him a bit of a stern look. He shouldn’t have expected any less from him.

“Hey old man,” he chuckled as he got inside the funeral home. “I have an honest question. Why have the funeral here when you can have it closer?”

Levi shrugged. “His family wants him buried in Louisiana. But that’s too far away from us here. So we compromised.”

“Would you have gone to New Orleans to have the funeral if you could?”

He went down to the dining hall where everyone else was, Jean following closely. “You know what, I probably would.”

“But Ymir said no.”

“Yep,” he chuckled dryly. “She said no.”

“Well at least you listen to your voice of reason.”

“Hm?”

“Nothing.” Jean cleared her throat. “Nothing at all.”

Levi sighed, hearing the commotion in the other room. “I have the Polaroid with me. I’ll give it to you here so that you have it when we come back here tomorrow.”

He nodded. “Alright. It’s in good hands.”

“It’d better be.” Levi then sat down. Erwin’s family was talking amongst themselves on one side, and Jean finally saw people he recognized on the other. He sat down next to Connie, with Sasha beside him.

“Where the hell were you?” Connie mumbled and handed him a plate.

“I was running late. I took a long way there by accident.”

“At least you’ll know for next time.” Sasha glanced over.

Reiner sighed as he took a sip of his drink. He kept looking at Erwin’s family whenever they laughed. He had family from all over Louisiana, so most of them were all different walks of life.

They were sharing the good old days with each other, talking about Erwin when he lived there. He supposed that they hadn’t seen each other in a long time. And that was a little sad.

Meanwhile Ymir and Krista were talking together next to Levi. Ymir kept assuring her father that it was okay, because he seemed to look more intimidated than usual sitting right by Erwin’s family. Everyone was rather boisterous and social, either exchanging waves of nostalgia or catching up with one another. But Jean just looked towards Erwin’s casket. It was closed for the viewing, and he hated to find out the reason why. He nervously looked at formerly close friends and absolute strangers.

And right in front of him, there was Marco. He turned his head and gave him a look, and it was not a pleasant one. He couldn’t fathom how he managed to make Marco go from not knowing he existed to having a fantastic revelation, to discovering hidden feelings and now completely hating his guts, all in one week. Although that was his plan, knowing that it worked so well that it turned against him kind of pissed him off. How ironic.

Jean mimicked Marco’s glare. A taste of his own medicine. A rather childish way of doing it, but what else could he think of? In public and in front of people he didn’t know? He had to be a least a little professional.

Levi looked over at him as everyone was paying their respects. “I’ll give it to you now,” he said. “Be careful with it.”

“I’m not a dog, you know,” he snorted. “I think I know how to take care of a camera.”

Marco turned his attention to his father. “What camera?”

“The Polaroid.”

The brunette bit his lip. “This asshole is taking Pa’s Polaroid?”

“It’s by my request,” he explained. “I want him to take pictures at the funeral with his camera.”

“Like hell, he is.”

“Marco…” Ymir shook her head as she scolded. “That’s enough.”

“He’s not touching anything that is ours, Ymir!” He got up from his seat when his dad and Jean already left the room. It seemed silent now. They all found something more interesting to listen to and watch, no matter where they were seated in the chapel.

“Thanks for giving me this job, Levi,” Jean said softly as he was given the camera. “It really is an honor.”

“It’s not a problem,” he sighed. “And thank you.”

“Dad!” Marco rushed over. “Dad, don’t give it to him!”

He looked at his son. “Marco, stop being childish. I asked for him to use it.”

“But he can’t use it! It’s Pa’s!”

“He’s used it before. You both had used it in July last year.”

That did throw Marco off course. He had absolutely no idea about that. “Well… w-whatever. He’s not using it now!”

Jean rolled his eyes. “Do you know how immature you sound right now?”

“You’re not any better, to be honest.” Levi rolled his eyes.

“Well I’m sorry if your son is being a jer—hey!”

Marco quickly took the Polaroid from Jean while he was distracted. He held it close. “Forget it. You’re a graphic designer, aren’t ya? You have your own equipment!”

“Yeah, but not with me, genius.” He took the camera back. “Why can’t you just listen to your dad?”

“Because he is giving you something that you of all people should never have the privilege to hold!” Marco yanked it back.

They started fighting over it like little children fighting over a toy. Levi was still watching and now was quickly getting nervous. Something that usually wasn’t visible in his facial expression. He raised two children that used to argue over their toys all the time. And a majority of that time, what usually happened when they fought over toys, when they got too rough or aggressive… “Jean. Marco. That’s enough!”

They were both startled and looked over. For a moment they both had a shaky grip. A bad time to have one. The Polaroid camera slipped from their grasps.

The crash on the hard tile could be heard from all over the funeral home.

Levi was as stiff as a board. He stared down at the pieces with this look of defeat that Marco didn’t remember seeing once before but knew that he had. His journal… he said that when everyone finally registered that Erwin died, he was the first to break down crying. And oh god, he did not want him to cry again.

Marco looked at Jean and glared. “I knew you shouldn’t have held it. Look what you’ve done!”

“ _Me?_ ” he was taken aback and at the same time pissed. “ _You_ were the one that started fighting me for it! What the hell is your problem?”

“I did not want you touching it! It was Pa’s camera, and he had it with him when he and dad first met!”

“It’s not _my_ fault that you are an immature brat!”

“Get out.”

Jean and Marco froze and looked up. “What, sir?”

“Get. Out.” Levi gave them a malicious look. His fists were clenched to the point that his knuckles were white. “Now. Get out!”

Marco stiffened. “Dad, I’m so sorry. I just didn’t want him to—”

“ _Get out!”_ Levi was about ready to drag them out. “I don’t want to see either of you two for the rest of the night! You two are acting like fucking children! If you’re not going to chill out for just _two days_ then I don’t think that either of you should even be at the funeral!”

He felt tears well up in his eyes. “Dad… d-don’t do this, I wanna see Pa!”

“If you want to see him, then get out of here right now and come back tomorrow. I’m so sick and tired of the pettiness during a time of mourning. You both need time to cool down, and I’m not letting you stay here when you are this aggressive.”

“But how am I getting home?”

“ _You_ figure it out,” Levi seethed.

Jean felt eyes staring at the three of them and looked over. Quickly the mob at the door—Erwin’s family and his friends—diverted their eyes and walked off. He looked at Levi. “I’m sorry, L… M-Mr. Ackerman. I can replace it.”

“Just get out, Jean,” he sighed and rubbed his brow. “There’s no way in hell that this can be replaced.”

It was more than just an ancient camera. It was a memento. Even if Jean were to replace it, the nostalgia would be nonexistent. That was probably what upset him the most. He destroyed memories. Not just Erwin and Levi’s, but what he had of his and Marco’s that unfortunately the latter couldn’t remember.

He felt so bad, but he knew that the best and only thing he could do was to leave. That would relieve Levi’s stress the most. He walked out of the building, and he noticed that it was still pouring as hard as it was before. And that was extremely inconvenient. Jean had to walk down the further part of the parking lot in order to get to that rental car.

“Jean!”

He froze when someone called for him. Turning around, he saw Marco rush over without a jacket on. He probably left it in the funeral home and was too upset about disappointing his dad to go and get it. Oh well.

“What do you want?” Jean muttered.

The brunette looked down at the ground as he heard thunder rumble in the distance. That made Jean a little tense, but he tried ignoring it.

“I don’t have a ride home. I was… too scared of driving in the rain to take my own car. So… I’m wondering if you can just… take me home. Please.” He sounded like he was too reluctant to say it.

“After what happened inside? Are you fucking kidding me?” He opened his car door. “Why should I do anything to help you?”

“Listen, I’m sorry about what happened in there. But I have to go home, and it’s an hour and a half away. Please.”

Part of Jean wanted him to just get in his car and drive off, away from all this bullshit. But there was another part that protested. The Good Samaritan in him, perhaps. He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Get in. I pick the music.”

Marco nodded and went in the passenger seat. “…Thank you.”

“Hmph.” Jean started the car and just drove, not saying anything. The music on the radio was a little soft, and he preferred that as he drove in the rain. The windshield wipers were going a mile a minute, and the traffic was moderate.

Meanwhile the brunette stared out the window. His dampened hair was sticking to the sides of his face, and he felt a little cold. The heater was barely on though. He went and turned it up.

Jean smacked Marco’s hand away from the controls. “My car.”

“It’s cold as hell in here!”

“Well, you’re the genius that decided to not get their coat before coming outside.” He faced the road still and made sure Marco kept his hands where they were.

Marco crossed his arms and shivered. He listened to the music, and in the background he heard a familiar whistling followed by the names of the most familiar states. He smiled faintly.

Glancing over at Jean he pointed to the radio. “I love this song…”

He heard the song on the radio and flinched. _Home…_ He knew that he loved this song. He also knew that he sang it whenever he was happy. He sang it when he felt so elated with the world that he didn’t care who heard it.

And he knew that he used to sing it whenever he’d see Jean during the day. All those months ago. He bit his lip and turned the volume down.

Marco froze. He didn’t understand why he really was upset with the song playing. “So what. Because I said something, you’re just going to turn it off?”

All the blonde did was just shrug.

He rolled his eyes. “You’re an ass.” He kicked his feet up on the dashboard. Looking up at the stars, he sighed softly. But as his eyes went back over to the windshield, he tensed. There was a huge pop.

“Shit!” Jean tried not to stop short, knowing that would make them skid. Marco quickly braced himself, and Jean brought the car to a complete stop after pulling over to the side. They were on a highway. He could hear the cars whizzing passed him, and he panted from fear. “What the hell?!”

Marco looked at him. “The fuck did you do?” He was stiff as well, in a brief panic. He took deep breaths to just calm down, _calm down_. This was pretty bad that he thought back to when he read about his accident. The thought of it was horrifying, and he never wanted to relive another one.

“I have no idea!” Jean got out of the car and to assess the damage. He stayed as far away from the side of the road as he possibly could. He knelt down and groaned. One of the tires was blown out. “Dammit!” He kicked it and hissed under his breath. Quickly taking his phone out, he called Reiner.

“What, Jean?” He must have looked at the caller ID. The room sounded like it was an echo. He must have moved into the bathroom.

“Reiner. I’m stuck on the highway and one of my tires is blown out,” Jean muttered. “Is the wake almost over?”

“There’s still going to be a small meal afterwards, and the viewing itself might take another half hour or so. And it also depends on where you are.”

“I don’t know where I am, Reiner! All I know is that I’m on a highway, Marco is in the passenger seat, and I just want to go home!”

Reiner sighed on the other end. “Bert and I will be there as soon as we can. Just sit tight. We’ll figure out where you are, even if it takes all night.”

“Thank you,” he sighed.

“Besides, if Marco’s in the car with you, we’d really have to find you guys.”

“Whatever, just please hurry!” After hanging up he went back in the car and slammed the door. He was drenched now. “The tire’s blown out. It might take an hour for Reiner and Bertholdt to come get us.”

“Don’t you have a spare, Jean?”

“Uh no, because this is a rental, and they didn’t think of the possibility that there might be a problem like this!”

The brunette glared. “This is all your fault.”

“How is it _my_ fault? You were the immature one that wouldn’t let your dad just give me the fucking camera!” Jean growled.

“If you hadn’t been so rude when you first got here, none of this anger bullshit would exist!”

The blonde laughed. It was an obnoxious, sarcastic laugh. “Oh really, Mr. ‘Stop-trying-to-make-this-all-about-you’ Bodt?! Was that really necessary to say?”

“Yes, because you were just talking about a fucking video! How the hell was I supposed to know what you were talking about?”

The tension was making Jean’s breathing grow heavier. “It was just a simple question. You didn’t have to go ape shit on me! I was genuinely curious!”

“Well I’m sorry if all I knew about you recently was that you hated me!”

“I still do!”

Marco unbuckled his seatbelt and glared. “Do you really mean that so strongly?”

Jean nodded, just as fierce. “Yes. I hate you.” He looked at the ground when he spoke.

They were both just so furious with each other. Marco was getting more agitated than anything else. He grabbed his shoulder and pinned him to the car door. “Say it again.”

Still wouldn’t look at him. “I hate you.”

He grabbed his chin and forced him to look up. “Say it again. If you hate me that much, you’d look me in the fucking eyes and say it.”

Jean felt so intimidated that this fire was starting to ignite in his blood. He breathed heavily out his mouth, feeling Marco’s hot breath mingle with his and making him shiver. “I hate you.” His voice was shaky.

The rain was pounding hard outside. Jean shivered from the cold and the flaming rage in Marco’s eyes. He only mirrored that as he stared.

“Say it,” he hissed. “Like you fucking mean it.”

He gulped. “I. Hate. You.” He sounded surer of himself, but deep down he wasn’t so sure.

They glared at each other for another second. Marco pushed him further against the door, only to have Jean dragging him closer by his nails. He pulled him down and gave him a rough kiss, groaning from the sudden, fluid movement of Marco kissing him back.

He was just as rough as Jean, with his teeth tugging at his lower lip to make them kiss deeper. With his hands running up his shirt and the other scratching at his neck. He could gag from how deep the kiss was. But he allowed it. He wanted it. They were both so tense that it turned them on, with the sounds of the rain and thunder above them and the speeding cars only a few yards away making them both stiff.

They grabbed at each other and clawed down their sides, and Jean tried bringing him as close as he could. He missed his kisses. He missed the way he felt above him. But this had a notably tense atmosphere. It was almost scary. And it was scary for Marco too. But their blind anger did the movement for them.

They both pulled away for air, with Jean panting and sitting himself up. He inched further away from the door to get comfortable, only to have his back tensed up against the steering wheel. The horn honked loud each time Marco leaned down to kiss him with that same ferocity as the first. They both groaned in annoyance after another three times.

“Fucking…” Jean growled and shifted to the back. He pulled Marco closer, feeling him pin him down against the seats. He leaned down and kissed him so roughly once again. It took his breath away and made his head spin.

Marco pulled away from his lips and latched to his neck. He nipped at his skin and made Jean shiver each time. He shook from sudden excitement.

He recalled that Hitch told him to bring condoms. And he did bring some. Subconsciously he grabbed non-latex. Way too ironic there.

Jean lost all coherent thoughts when the brunette straddled him. He whined, and it broke off into a fierce growl. He grabbed his shoulders just as Marco undid his shirt. Frustrated with the buttons, he ripped it right off his body.

It was getting way too hot in here to breathe.

Jean panted as his chest was exposed. He looked up at Marco and noticed that he was staring at the bandage right across his chest. He didn’t want him looking there, and he distracted him by tugging off his equally soaked shirt. His body was just as beautiful as when he last saw him. And he noticed something new as well.

“N-new tattoo?” he breathed, looking at the long phoenix down his side. There was still some of it that was hidden by the fabric of his pants.

“Got it last month, I think?” He questioned the date only briefly and leaned down once more. His grip was still tight on his hips. His lips felt like fire on Jean’s cold skin, and it spread as he was kissing downward.

His grunt that followed was off-putting.

Jean’s hand grabbed at the other’s head, and he gripped at his scalp when feeling him take his pants off with his _teeth_. _Fuck…_ The zipper went down so quickly that Jean shivered.

Marco shifted right up again, cupping his chin and capturing his lips. Jean just gave in, melting in the intense heat. He tried finding leverage in his bare shoulders, but it was only temporary. He’d quickly moved down again. Marco was fucking ravaging his body, making shivers quickly run down his spine. As his pants were tugged off he spread his legs as wide as they could go, one of them resting above the seats.

As the brunette quickly pinned Jean’s arms above his head, he straddled him and made the quick decision to rut his hips against his in haste. And Jean fucking loved it. He loved it so much that it pissed him off.

Jean tilted his head up when Marco’s lips grazed down his throat. His hands moved down to his ass, and he groped at it to make Marco pant against his collar. He felt his tongue run in between the piercings and that made him arch up on a shaky exhale. He bit his lip and was much less sexy than Marco was when taking off his jeans. The fabric was so wet and he pulled down so swiftly that his boxers started to come off as well.

Oh, how he missed the way his dick looked when it was sprung up and ready for him.

Marco had to kick off his shoes to get them all the way down. Jean tugged his underwear off with a graceless charm. The brunette rolled his eyes when helping.

It was when they were both naked before each other for the first time in eight months that Jean’s aggression falters. But it was only for a second, and he mirrored the impact of his kisses. His tongue ring teasing the inside of his mouth makes him weak, though.

He pulled away too soon, and Jean was arching after him with his lips parted on a shaky whine. He growled. “Y-y’re such a fucking tease,” he muttered, feeling Marco kiss down his body. “You think you’re so cool, you like being o—oh _my god._ ”

He broke off when feeling the silver ball of Marco’s piercing right against his entrance. It all of a sudden felt so hot, and his thighs were shaking it was so fucking _good._

Jean then remembered Marco saying that he didn’t give a shit about the smoking propaganda because he ate ass anyways. How could he possibly forget? How could he possibly _think_ that he could forget that? How selfish. How inconsiderate. How— _amazing._

“M-Marco,” he gasped as he felt the other’s tongue thrusting stiffly inside him. All he could say was his name, in this language he liked to call “too fucking high for English.” He tried spreading his legs wider as nails ran down his trembling thighs, and he bent his knees back further. His hands couldn’t find anything stable for leverage.

Marco wasn’t stopping either. The groans and grunts that were muffled by the way he kissed him and fucked him with his tongue made his thighs quake. He couldn’t help but be in awe at the way Jean quickly was a shaking mess underneath him, even if they were doing this out of anger. He supposed that after being so frustrated and mad at each other the past few days finally took its toll. And the only thing left to do was this. They started this, and neither of them were stopping.

Neither of them wanted to.

When Marco finally pulled away, Jean whined helplessly. He looked down at him and had his hand in his hair. “Y-you keep fucking doing that,” he stammered.

The only response that Marco could think of was a dry chuckle and a shake of his head. He kissed along his thighs. “You probably don’t have lube, do ya?”

“Uh… actually.”

“Wow.”

Jean glanced over. “I-in the glove compartment. I was too embarrassed to jack off in Reiner’s apartment, so I did it in here.”

“Lemme guess, you have condoms too?” He reached over into the glove compartment and hastily found the bottle.

The blonde laughed nervously. “Yeah. T-they’re non-latex.”

At hearing that Marco froze. “You’re allergic too?”

He looked down and shook his head. “I just know that some people are… So I’m considerate just in case I were to meet anyone that was allergic to latex.”

The brunette dismissed any thought of sentimentality. “How sweet.”

He gave a nervous laugh and had his legs spread. His anger was starting to dissipate, but it seemed that Marco was still generally mad. Or at least annoyed, if anything else. But as long as Jean got to just once see him like this, feel him like this, _touch_ him like this. They were both consensual. So Jean did not see a problem with it. And apparently neither did Marco at the moment.

Jean was still pressed up against the side, his back pressed against the seat. Marco kept this position so that one of Jean’s legs was still resting up on the top. The other was bent at the knee, shaking from how long he’d been holding it there. The blonde’s breath quickened as he watched the lube get poured onto the other’s fingers.

His heart pounded, and he shook from the force of it. He couldn’t help but feel anxious for this. But he couldn’t beg for it to go further… could he? No. They were still angry at each other. Marco was mad. That meant Jean had to be mad as well. But the glare he tried to give to him was less than meaningful.

The finger that was then pushed in was rather quick, making him sense that urgent, tense atmosphere all over again. He held the sides of the seat and took deep breaths. Calm… He needed to be calm as Marco was thrusting his finger inside him. Not being all that gentle about it. Not that it really mattered right now, to be honest.

“You good?” Marco muttered against Jean’s shoulder, and he added a second finger, stretching him open.

At least he still had his morals. Jean’s breath hitched as he nodded. “Y-yeah… I like it rough like this.”

“’S long as you’re sure,” he said softly. “Don’t want it to seem like it’s rushed.”

“A-admittedly, it was a little rushed.” Jean breathed out a laugh and broke off into a shuddering moan, feeling Marco’s fingers brush right against his sweet spot. “L-let’s get this over with.”

“Some patience maybe?” the brunette chuckled, and he could feel the way that the next hitching whine he hears goes straight to his dick. He pulled his fingers away and held his hips. “How long has it been?”

Jean panted. “E-eight months.”

 _Eight months…_ Since they broke up. The last time Marco had sex was last month, with Samuel. And that was pleasant, but the situation was not. Either way, he couldn’t help but wonder.

His eyes traveled to the bandage that was on his chest. It was a little soggy from the rain, and he was curious to why it was there. There were marks underneath it, and his hand reached up to grab it.

Jean quickly took hold of that wrist. The last thing he wanted Marco to see was his tattoo. That would be disastrous on his part, and he knew it. With the way he’d been acting since he tried to pull the “I hate you and don’t want to talk to you” act, he was worried that he was going to think this was some kind of thing that he’d done to try and draw attention to himself. That was not the case at all. He actually was just really drunk.

“C’mon,” he muttered and grabbed the bandage. “’S not like it’s gonna hurt anyways. It’s all wet.” Without much protest, he took it off so easily. But what was underneath made him freeze.

A tattoo of his name. Right on his chest, over his heart. Jean diverted his eyes quickly. He reached into his wallet that was in his pants pocket. He took one of the condoms out of the wrapper and went to put it over Marco’s cock himself.

But when Jean looked back up he noticed the hard stern in his eyes lose its fire. He was drawn to it. He managed to slowly slide it on, which caught Marco’s attention again much quicker than he expected. He’d grabbed his wrist, pushing it right back up over his head.

“You seem to like finding a way to get on my nerves,” Marco hissed.

Jean took a deep breath to prepare himself just in case, and he shrugged and gave him a smirk. Part of their act that he was quickly going in character for. “I try.”

That was all he could say. And in that instant, as Jean grabbed onto his shoulders when suddenly he was being filled by Marco’s large cock, he doesn’t say anything for the longest time other than gasping, shuddering moans for more. He loses thought entirely and just focuses on this. Not on the rain, not on the highway traffic outside. Not even on the thunder that both of them could easily hear overhead. On Marco, and on how he was quickly driving every single ounce of coherence out of him.

Their first time, they made love. They were gentle and sweet with each other, and it was so beautiful that it made Jean cry when realizing how much Marco had loved him. Now, it was a pile-driving, insanely intoxicating act of greed. On both their parts. It was almost deadly, how lustful and envious they were when grabbing hold and making each other go to new heights. This was all they thought of.

And Marco just kept going. Jean lost track of time and if he was even breathing. One minute he was filling him up deep and mercilessly, and the next he was ramming inside him at a pace that was almost impossible to calculate a speed for. Face in his neck and mouth hung open, legs shaking on both sides of him, Jean just moaned for it. It was so rough that at certain points it started to hurt, but he _loved_ it.

That was until Marco hand his hand right over the tattoo of his name. He was covering it. As he bent Jean back further to get him as deep as he always loved, he made sure that neither of them could see it. Neither of them could look at it and realize that wow, there was the big mistake Jean did while he was drunk. He didn’t understand what that even meant.

Then he heard Marco’s whimper into his neck. He noted that he was tenser, shakier, and he was gripping Jean’s hips and thrusting with a force that faltered every few seconds. It still had Jean moaning loud and long for him, but he could tell that now there was something different. Why was Marco covering it? Why was he hiding it from the both of them?

Was he ashamed?

Jean was starting to get that feeling that he was, because he started feeling that way too.

Finally Marco just stopped. He was shaking above him so much that he couldn’t focus on a decent pace. He couldn’t bring himself to go any faster or any rougher. Not with Jean. Not with the way his body was quivering under him and trying to endure this pace that he obviously wasn’t used to. At least by him. He couldn’t do it. He lost the will to.

“I-I can’t,” he shivered and pulled out. “I can’t do this anymore. N-not like this.”

A part of Jean felt a strong sense of relief. His body relaxed, and he looked at the hand that was covering his tattoo again. The fingers over it were starting to curl, and the brunette finally moved it away. He shook his head and didn’t look at Jean.

He started shaking again as he pulled off the condom. “I… w-when did you get that?”

Jean bit his lip. “A couple months after we broke up,” he said softly and turned on his side. “I was really drunk that night… and I guess I missed you too much. After that was when I decided that I really needed to move on for real. To not think about you anymore. A-and it worked, for a little while.”

“I suppose it was easier for me than it was for you,” Marco mumbled. “You were in my dreams for a while, and I guess I never put two and two together. And I guess I was too caught up in that past to realize that it wasn’t going to be like how it was before if we ever saw each other again.”

Jean noticed his shoulders bunch up. He knew he did that whenever he was about to cry, and he could see the tears forming in his eyes before his breath would begin to shake. He sat up and went to take his hand. He was already feeling a little sore and just wanted to lie back down, but he didn’t want to see Marco cry.

“…Do you really hate me, Jean?”

The question made him tense again. “No, Marco… I don’t.”

“Do you now, after this?”

He shook his head. “N-no. We were both angry.”

Marco gave a silent nod. “I’m sorry. For being such an asshole, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Jean whispered. “M-me too.” He shifted back to get dressed. His shirt was what came on first, since he just wanted his tattoo covered. The bottom buttons were ripped off, so he had to cover himself with his jacket as well. He shifted back to the front seat to let Marco get changed, and he zipped up his pants.

The car was silent for the rest of the time. And about twenty minutes later, Reiner arrived at last. They both had to sit in the back of his car, since Bert was sitting on the passenger side. And they kept the seat in the middle vacant for personal space. They refused to look at each other. Neither of them spoke.

Bert glanced back after a while. “Hey, are you guys okay?”

Jean gave a half-hearted nod. “Fine.”

Marco nodded and stared out the window. “Yeah… Fine.”

And that was all that was said. Both of them had tears running down their faces as they looked out their respective windows. And after Marco was dropped off at his house, Jean curled up in his seat and stayed in that spot for the rest of the night. What else could be said? He didn’t even want to get up from that spot. He was too upset to move, and he didn’t mind sleeping against the window.

\--

**April 7 th**

_The sun was shining brightly overhead_ the next day. The overcast was gone, and it showed signs of promise for a beautiful day. A perfect day to celebrate Jean’s twenty-fourth birthday. A rather ominous day to hold a funeral service for a man that was taking from this world far too soon.

Jean rode with Reiner and Bertholdt to the funeral home this time around. They graciously let him borrow their camera to use for the day. He still felt so guilty for breaking the Polaroid that he felt that he probably should avoid Levi the whole service.

The ride to Wellington seemed much quickly with the funeral procession ahead of them. Jean kept silent the whole ride, and refused to talk even after they got out of the car. He couldn’t look at anyone there for the first half hour. They all knew what he did to the camera, and knowing he had to be here invading their time of grieving made him feel selfish.

Why was he here when he already messed up so much in these people’s lives? He didn’t like this feeling. He especially didn’t like it once he saw Levi, Ymir, and Marco sit in the front. They stared at the closed casket with an overwhelming sadness that was far too much for him to witness.

Jean didn’t know what this was like. He didn’t _want_ to know what this was like. And he was pissed that the only reason why he was told to come here was to take pictures of the service. To give Marco something to look back on whenever he would refuse to believe that his pa had died. He felt like he was just interfering. Disrupting their piece. But at the same time, no one seemed to even care that he was there.

He kept taking pictures of the alter. Of Erwin’s casket, and of Levi standing at the podium and saying his emotional eulogy. It was amazing how much he loved him, and it was also too painful to try and repeat everything he said. As much as it would be useful for him to remember word for word, he never wanted to see or even think about Levi crying ever again.

Ymir was next, and then a couple of Erwin’s cousins. He had to take a few breathers in between, unable to handle it. He was always a wreck at funerals. But the person he was worried about the most was Marco. He was finding out all over again that his pa was dead, by coming to his funeral and saying goodbye one last time.

Speaking of him, he was staring at the casket like a hawk, his expression blank. He looked like he was trying to hold back as much of his tears as he could, not wanting to cause disruptions. Jean was sure that he wrote about what happened yesterday in his journal.

He was almost positive that he wrote about what they had done the night before, when they were kicked out of the funeral home after breaking the camera.

All he could do was take the pictures. No words could be said. He couldn’t offer any comfort or condolences as Erwin’s family was letting their emotions out as they were saying goodbye. Not to his cousins, not to Ymir—especially not Levi. And he couldn’t face Marco again.

The funeral was coming to a close, and everyone was moving up to the casket. It was still closed, with the flowers on top of it as they were waiting for the burial. Marco stared at it still, and there was a nagging feeling in his chest.

He’d written in his journal that the last time he saw Erwin’s face was when he told him he got a new job with Mr. Zeramuski. And that was two days before he died. He didn’t get a chance to say goodbye while he was alive, to hug and kiss him and tell him he loved him. He deserved that much at least. He wanted to be able to do that for him. But he couldn’t if he couldn’t even see his face. That was not fair. He wanted to see his face one last time. Why was the casket closed?

There was going to be no answer to his question. He got up when it was his turn, and he looked to Levi.

“Dad… w-why is Pa’s casket closed?”

“That was what was decided,” Levi said softly. He was close to it as well. “It was better for his family as well. We all had to compromise somehow.

“But that’s not fair. I wanna see Pa!” He went to try and opening. “Please let me see Pa.”

“Marco, don’t make a scene,” he muttered. "You’ll have plenty of opportunities to see him and come back to pay your respects whenever you come to Wellington.”

“But what if I _don’t_ come back? What if it’s the last time I’m going to see him, and I can’t even see his face?” His lip quivered. “I just wanna see Pa. Please.”

Levi sighed sadly and just pulled his son close. “I know. I know you do, believe me. We have to respect his family’s wishes too.”

Marco kept his father close. God, he didn’t want to see him cry anymore. Never again. He looked over at the door as he wiped his eyes. He noticed that Jean was leaving, and he didn’t want him to go yet. But he also didn’t want to move away from his dad either.

Levi pulled away first before he had a chance to say anything. “Go ahead. And take that with you.” He gestured towards the box that was on his seat.

The brunette nodded and wiped his eyes. “I will.” He quickly grabbed it and rushed outside. He saw Jean was at Reiner’s car, taking out his bag. He had called a cab beforehand to make sure he had a ride to the airport. He was going right back to Jersey after this.

Marco was able to stop him just as the cab was pulling up. “Jean, wait!”

He looked over and tilted his head. He wasn’t sure why he was being called. For not paying his respects? For not being sympathetic with everyone inside? He could easily fix that, although he was always very awkward at funerals, not wanting to say the wrong thing.

“Look,” he started to mumble. “I’m really sorry for your loss…” He trailed off when a box was placed in his hand.

Marco looked at him and made sure he held the box securely. “…Happy birthday.”

The blonde froze. “How’d you…?”

“Sasha told me that your birthday is on April 7th. Kind of an awkward day to be at a funeral then, huh?”

He diverted his eyes. “Yeah… Listen. Let your dad know that I’ll email the pictures to him this week, okay?”

His lack of enthusiasm was bring Marco down already. He nodded slowly. “I will. And thank you for coming, even if you were only here because you were paid to take pictures.”

“Yeah. You’re welcome,” he sighed. He opened the door to the cab. “And uh… thanks for the present. Nice gesture.”

Not once had he looked at him.

Marco bit his lip. “Oh uh… I also made you this.” He took out another small box. “It’s a cupcake. I wasn’t sure what flavor you liked, so I made you red velvet.”

Red velvet cake was the first flavor that he ever saw him make.

He accepted this unknowingly sentimental gesture.

“I really appreciate it.” He took the cupcake box in his hand and then sat in his seat. “Your dad also told me that you’re going up to the city to do training with a wedding cake decorator. Congratulations. And good luck.”

He lowered his head. “Yeah, uh… thanks. And you too.”

And that was that. Jean told the driver that now he was okay to leave. He set the box aside and under his jacket, planning on opening it when he got back home. And he ate his cupcake as behind him he could see Marco slowly wave him off. Like he really was going to miss him.

This was the sweetest cupcake that he had ever tasted.


	15. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter: After a long eight months, everything comes full circle. Even things Jean didn't expect to come back. He'd say that everyone will all live happily ever after, but a story never just ends at the good part. There will be good times, bad times, and days that no one will be able to stand each other again. But no matter what happens, no matter what it takes, they will always find their way back home.

_Jean got back to his house_ at eleven at night. He really didn’t care. This had been just about the worst birthday ever, and most of it was spent on the plane. He really didn’t complain all too much though, because it was not in his control.

Hearing the waves crashing along the shore, he sighed softly in relief. He was finally back. He was home.

As he stepped inside and put his bag down on the floor beside the door, he looked down at the present he was holding. The one from Marco. He still hadn’t opened it. He did shake it a little bit and felt that there had to be more than one thing inside. Probably required some assembly. Or maybe it was fragile. Oops.

“Oh well,” he sighed. He sat down on the couch in front of his television. He glanced at the door in the living room that led to the deck. He was planning on going outside. The breeze at midnight felt so nice this time of year.

Jean decided that before he would go outside, he should look at his present from Marco. It was the least he could do. He sat down on the couch and stared at the box. He unwrapped the paper and held the lid of what could be the equivalent of a shoe box. He took a deep breath.

“Okay,” he sighed. “You can do this… Just open the damn box. It’s not so hard, right? It’s just a box.”

His fingers shook, but he opened the box slowly. He didn’t look down at it at first. He kept his focus on the window. He could do this… He could do this. He finally looked down after turning on the lamp to help him see it better because it was still a little dim. And what he saw took his breath away.

Pictures. There were pictures. They looked a little old, but that was because of the camera that was being used when taking them. The Polaroid…

These were _their_ pictures from when they were dating. They were all here in this little box. There had to be hundreds of them. There were some from the beach, the bar and grille, the bakery, their houses. Just down the street. Some with unrecognizable backgrounds. All the pictures from when they were kissing as a pose… Even the crappy ones that he thought they threw away.

“…B-but how?” he gasped, talking to no one. “How was he able to keep these? I… I don’t understand.”

He thought Marco threw everything away.

He looked at each picture, each one making the fracture in his heart worse. He couldn’t believe this. As Jean placed the box down, he noticed something lying underneath the photos. He tilted his head and picked it up to examine. His stomach did somersaults.

It was a case for a DVD. And across it said “WATCH ME.” Wait a minute…

“There’s no way,” he muttered and looked at the disc inside. What could possibly be on this disc. There was no way that it was… Well, that was the most likely possibility. “Whatever. I’ll just watch it.” And so he did. He put the disc in the player and turned on the TV.

And he couldn’t stop his breathing from quickening with anxiety when seeing “ **GOOD MORNING, MARCO** ” in big, bold letters. No… He heard the music starting to play in the background. No way.

His eyes watered. “T-the video.”

 “ **Everything is going to be okay** ,” it then said across the screen, the song in the background playing while Jean desperately tried not to cry. The song was already starting to get stuck in his head again. And he didn’t mind that at all. “ **Here are some of the things that you have missed**.”

He saw all of the events flash by him, from 2012 to July of 2014 when he first made this. The news paper clipping passed by him, but it was so blurry as tears were blocking his vision. He couldn’t believe this.

Marco had the video. He kept it! And he saw himself moments later explaining to Marco their relationship from the day they first met to the day he gave him this video. He was crying, albeit silently, just watching the video and covered his mouth. He knew all the lines and mouthed along to them.

But right when the video was supposed to end, when they were deciding on takeout, for some reason the disc didn’t stop. He tilted his head, watching the screen as there was a fuzzier sound coming from the TV. Sounded like a webcam was used. Faint music was playing as someone came into view.

“M-Marco?” How and when the hell did he record this?

Marco cleared his throat and then waved shyly. “Uh… Hey, Jean. It’s midnight now, so… I wanna wish you a happy birthday.” He twiddled his thumbs anxiously. “You’re probably wondering how I even found this video… Or the photos. I know you said that I destroyed everything that reminded me of you. But after coming home finally after Reiner and Bert picked us up, I’d been so upset that I threw stuff around the room, and…. I found these.” He held up a handful of pictures in the video.

He stared at the screen. Was this even real? He couldn’t believe this. This had to have been a dream. He was still sleeping on the plane and will wake up hearing the captain say that they were about to land. But as he saw Marco’s eyes starting to water in the video, he realized that maybe this really was happening. He didn’t know how, but it was.

“I have no idea what I thought when I told you to leave.” Marco sniffled. “I don’t know where my mind was. All I know is that… I think differently now. I’m not as doubtful of what I’m capable of. I know that it _is_ possible for me to live my own life. I’m not a burden, and no matter what’d happened in the past, I never was a burden. And I can’t believe it took me eight months to find out that I made the biggest mistake of my life for thinking that way about myself. I realize how much you cared about me and how much I meant to you. And… Likewise.”

Jean wiped his eyes, being reduced to an ugly, crying mess. He shook his head, his heart aching. He didn’t know how much more he could watch of this.

“I don’t know if I ever told you that I loved you in the past. But right now. I want you to know that, even if you hate me… I appreciate everything that you had done and tried to do, and I promise you that I will never, _ever_ forget that. No matter how far apart we are or if we ever see each other again. No matter how much time passes between now and the day that you and I cross paths.”  He was just as emotional as Jean was, and he was trying not to completely break down while live in front of and camera. “And now there is another thing I need to show you.”

Jean thought that he had seen it all. He was almost ready to lose it himself, staring at the screen with an endless curiosity. He thought that these photos and the fact that he still had that video after all this time was enough. But apparently there was more, and he was not complaining in the slightest.

His eyes then widened when seeing Marco holding up a portrait. It was… it was portrait that he had painted, that hot rainy day in July. The day that Marco showed Jean that he completely trusted him enough to do a painting like that of him. The day that he realized how much he really loved him.

“I found this the day that I first dreamed about you, when I talked to Connie and Sasha. They were practically begging me to take it back,” he chuckled, still shaken up. “I’m taking it to New York with me. This was money well spent, Jean. And I will keep this forever, to remind me that yes, there was someone that I trusted enough to do this for me. Yes, there was someone that would never take advantage of the fact that I wouldn’t be able to remember what might have happened the next morning. Yes. Yes there was a person that I can say I loved enough to do this for me for a hundred and five dollars.”

At that point Jean lost it. Him saying that he would never forget what he had done was too much.

Marco sniffled and wiped his eyes. “I’m so sorry about earlier, in the car ride. And I’m sorry for attempting to jump back into something that was not going to happen the same way if done twice. I know better now when concerning that. Everything has changed. But our feelings don’t have to. If you’d rather move on in your career and not think about me anymore, that’s okay. I’m not mad gonna be mad at you for that. I promise. But I feel like if you ever do, I'd really like to know about our relationship. I'd love to hear about what we were really like together in your point of view. It'd be nice to at least imagine what we'd done together, you know?”

He honestly wasn’t too sure what he wanted anymore. He’d much rather stay with Marco, but of course that was feelings that were rekindled that he never thought he could follow through with again.

And then he heard the brunette speak again. “I’m leaving for New York next week, and I am going to be in the city. Mr. Zeramuski’s building is on East 63rd Street… if you ever wanted to come and stop by anyways. But that is only a suggestion.” He took a deep breath. “Okay. I think I’ve cried it out for long enough. Now, I’m just going to end this video with one last message to you.” He gave a small wave. “Thank you, Jean Kirschtein. Thank you for bringing me home. As much as I’d rather feel home whenever I look at you, I feel relieved to say that no matter where I am, the place I feel most comfortable and at home is right where I feel like I belong. And to be honest, I think I still need to search, until my career officially launches off again.”

Jean had never felt so proud in his entire life. He could see how much Marco had grown since they were apart, despite their aggressive stubbornness while he was in Florida. That confidence never left him. The grace he had only grew. There was no more naivety. There was no more doubtful expressions or worrisome features from being anxious about the future.

For once, he looked like the man he could have met one day before the accident. And he fell in love with him all over again. This was the man that he loved. He was the one that stole his heart almost a year ago, roughened it up a little bit, and then tossed it aside. Granted, this was not a good way to start off on something so deep, but Jean knew that story line behind it. And this same man could easily heal that broken heart. They couldn’t exactly pick up from where they left off.

But god, they could sure as hell try.

“Thank you, Jean. And happy birthday.” He reached over to turn off the camera, and the screen went black.”

Jean went outside the house onto the deck. He stared off at the marina and across the bay beyond. He gripped onto the wooden railing and took deep breaths. He needed to calm down, and the cool breeze was slowly helping. So was the sounds of the tide.

He could sure as hell go and try this again. He wanted to. He knew that this was what he wanted to do, but the only issue was if Marco was willing to start over as well. Only he could remember all the good times they had together before the breakup, but now they could make one hell of a story. Their story. He had the power to pass on that story, to make it known to him so that he could write all the wonderful things that happened in their relationship in his journal. If he would take that information. Jean hoped that he would. And now was a good time to plan. He was going to try his best to see if Marco would see him again.

Next week he was going to be in New York, but of course he wanted to give him some time before he would go and meet him again. And it didn’t take him long to decide when exactly he wanted to meet him. It was perfect. And it felt so right and made sense.

He wanted to meet him one year from when they first met. Not the day that he bumped his shoulder, but the day that they first really got the time to know each other. The day they first talked.

He was going to meet him on May thirty-first.

\--

 _On the last day of May_ , Marco was done with training. Well, he’d been done for a couple of days. He requested that he worked in New Jersey, like Mr. Zeramuski suggested. He started by helping out his cousin in Hoboken. And today was now his second day working for his new boss’ side business in Freehold.

He was already given high recommendations by Mr. Zeramuski, and he was surprised to find out how often people get married here. His second day and he already had five orders to fill. He had a lot of work cut out for him, he realized. But he knew that he was going to love every single minute of this experience. No matter what else life could throw at him.

He washed his hands and worked on his third cake of the evening. He was willing to stay a little longer than the workers are normally used to, just to do something that he loved. Sure, it was a bit of a surprise finding out each day that he was at a new job, in a new state, and with people that he hadn’t met at all the day before his accident. And that was fine by him. He considered all of this an adventure.

He still stayed in contact with Dr. Zacharius whenever he needed to speak to him, but he had a new therapist now. Dr. Freudenberg was just as good, but he often would rather talk to someone that he had known and talked to longer. And fortunately, his new therapist was perfectly fine with that.

Marco looked around to see that there were only a couple of workers left for the day. He stayed focused on his project, normally used to working alone but not minding at all whenever someone came over and wanted to take care of a few aspects for him. It was pretty cool being part of a team now.

He heard someone come into the store, but he was busy adding a few finishing touches to the chocolate marzipan, three-tiered cake with butter cream frosting. He was always focused on each detail of the cake, no matter what the flavor was nor what the clients specifically wanted on it.

“Can somebody go over and see who’s there?” he called as he put the finishing details on one of the flowers. “Perfect,” He smiled. He stepped back to get a better view of it. “I’d definitely want to get married and cut _this_ wedding cake,” he chuckled. He feared for any extravagant cakes in the future. Then he would really need help.

“Marco?” That was Nack trying to get his attention. He was by the counter. “This guy wants to speak to you personally.”

“Tell him that I’m almost done and will get to him shortly.” It must be a very important client if he wanted to see him personally. He took a deep breath. No need to get nervous over this. He was a professional. So what if someone really important wanted to… well, try one of his cakes and use his work for a wedding with his soon-to-be spouse. That was no big deal at all, right? Who was he kidding…?

Marco glanced up at the time and noticed it was almost time for him to clock out anyways. He sighed softly.

“Well, whoever it is, I’ll have to tell them that he’ll have to wait until tomorrow for a meeting.” He made sure that the cake he had been working on was safely stored with the others. “Good. Now it’s ready for the wedding tomorrow.”

Nack made sure it was properly labeled. “This one looks really good,” he said softly. “By the way, the guy is sitting right outside by the counter. He’s pretty patient.” He fixed his apron. “I dunno know why he would come here alone.”

“He was alone?” He tilted his head. “Are you sure? Where’s his fiancé?”

“No clue.” He shrugged. “Well, at least you should check out his case. He looked like he was anxious to see you.”

“I’m not sure if I’m someone that’s worth being anxious over.” Marco smiled nervously and hung his apron up. “Either way, I can’t meet with him until tomorrow.” He washed his hands again. “What’s the last name? I’ll write it down and make sure that I remember it tomorrow.”

“He went by the name of Kirschtein.”

His stomach flipped upside down, his heart jumping up to his throat. He glanced over quickly. “Kirschtein? You mean… J-Jean Kirschtein?”

“You know him?”

Marco took a deep breath. “I met him a few times… Mostly in dreams.”

Nack didn’t really understand, and he shook his head. “Well, good luck with that dream boy, I guess. Bet his wedding cake is going to taste really good.” He turned his head after clocking out, noticing that no one was in front of him. “…Marco? Where’d you go?”

He’d left while his back was turned. He hurried out from the kitchen and over to the front counter. He couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw that yes, it was Jean Kirschtein sitting there waiting for him.

He was holding forget-me-nots in his left hand, and a shoe box in his right.

Marco clutched his chest, curling his fingers into the fabric of his jacket. Seeing Jean looking at him with the softest golden eyes he had ever seen and the most relaxed posed at that, after everything he had read about him, made him confused but at the same time relieved.

What was he supposed to say? Marco had realized that his mouth was gaping open for the past couple of minutes. He cleared his throat, seeing Jean’s lips quirk up slightly in a smile. He walked over, deciding to speak up.

“…Hi.” His voice was a little shaky.

“Hello. You must be Marco Bodt,” Jean murmured. “I’m sorry I can’t really shake your hand at the moment. But, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Jean Kirschtein.”

He made it exactly as if they were first meeting for the very first time, but there was definitely a more underlining meaning behind this.

Marco gave him a small nod. “It’s nice to meet you too, Jean.” When Jean held the flowers out, the brunette slowly took them. He held them and sighed softly. “You know what my favorite flowers are?”

Jean smiled. “Of course. I also know that you’re allergic to peanuts, bees, shellfish, and latex. Quite a bit of a list you have there,” he smiled. “I also know that you have a half-sleeve tattoo of flowers under that jacket. Let’s not forget the unicorn head on your left cheek.”

Marco blushed. He knew about that too? “I’ve gotten a new tattoo since then, you know. It's a phoenix on my right side. All the way down it.”

“Sounds sexy,” the blonde chuckled. “I also know that you have a tongue piercing. And a few surface piercings on your hips. I also have to point out that I was a little surprised when I first found out about the Prince Albert.”

“You really do know everything,” he chuckled. “I guess you haven’t seen the bellybutton ring. Then again, I just got that at the end of April.”

“You pierced your navel too?” he blushed. “I wonder what it looks like.”

Jean could only wonder.

“What brings you all the way to Freehold, Jean?” Marco asked and got on his coat. It was raining outside, and he got his umbrella ready to walk out the door.

“Well, I contacted Mr. Zeramuski’s main building in New York, and the secretary told me that you were here instead of over there. That saved me a three hour trip. And it made this moment a little more sentimental.”

“How so?” Marco walked outside first. Jean just followed, still holding the shoe box as Marco kept them both sheltered from the rain.

Jean looked up at the much taller man next to him. “A year ago today, Connie begged for me to stop by Braun’s Pastries to pick up some pumpernickel bread. While I was waiting for it, there I saw you making one of Ymir’s _many_ birthday cakes. It was red velvet. And you were so welcoming to an absolute stranger. And at that point we really were. The only other time I had met you was on Memorial Day last year when you bumped my shoulder when coming back from break. Or… maybe I bumped into you.”

“I’m predicting that it was the latter,” the brunette grinned, looking down. “You seem like a bit of a clumsy person.”

“Most likely.” Jean shrugged and smiled. “Last year on this day we bet on a pack of cigarettes on who could eat two muffins faster. You won. But the next day, when I went back to the bakery, I was really confused to find that when I gave you the pack, you looked at me like you’d never seen me in my life.”

“…Because of my amnesia,” Marco said softly.

“Yep.” It was starting to rain harder. “Hey, let’s go inside somewhere and talk. Maybe we can have some coffee or something? What do people do when they just talk to each other?”

“I think they get coffee?” he smiled. “Does the Freehold Mall have a bistro?”

“Probably. But I’m not that big of a fan of crowds.” He looked up and saw a small café. “Let’s stop in here.”

“How convenient,” he giggled.

Jean nodded and led him in, waiting until the umbrella was closed outside before shutting the door. They sat at one of the tables by the window. “But you know. After I found out about your accident, I tried everything I could to get you to notice me without you wanting to kick my ass.”

“Me? Kick your ass?” He smiled and shook his head. “I wouldn’t hurt a fly. And if I did, I’d probably cry.”

“Bullshit,” Jean laughed. “You know, you hit me upside the head with a lacrosse stick one day. So, your whole pacifist act is not gonna fool me.”

“I did that?”

“Yeah, but I’ll get to that eventually.” He toyed with his lip ring a little before propping his head up on his arm. “Anyways. Each day I kept trying to see you. But of course, I’d always fail. And that could be a little nerve-wracking, you know?”

“I’m sure. And annoying.”

“But I stayed right with it, the whole time.” Jean placed the shoe box on the table. “It wasn’t until July when you found out that you kept repeating the same day. And your parents had no idea what to do to help you cope with that. And… that was when I decided on the video method. This was before you started going to therapy, by the way.”

Marco nodded, intrigued. “Can you tell me about our relationship? When we really started going full swing?”

“Of course.” Jean knew that this would make a really nice story, in all honesty. It was nice, just talking to Marco like this. He opened the shoe box, and inside was the Polaroid pictures that they took together. “I can tell you the back story behind each and every one of these photos. I can tell you that our very first kiss was on July fifth. And I can even tell you that one night in the middle of the month, we shotgunned weed. That was quite an experience.”

“We did?” Marco blushed. “Are you sure?”

“Well, either we did, or there was someone else that looked just like you breathing smoke into my mouth. It was hot, actually.”

“Oh good god.” The brunette covered his face.

“Why so embarrassed all of a sudden?” Jean smiled and held out a few of the pictures. A couple of them were of them kissing, and the one on the end had Marco’s bedroom in the background. He turned it over. “I added dates to them. That’d make it even easier to keep track of them, right?”

Marco looked at a few other pictures and nodded as he looked at the dates. “Yeah. It makes things a lot easier.” He stared at the picture of the one with his bedroom at his parents’ house. Well… now he should probably say at his dad’s house instead. The date on it was July twenty-seventh. “What happened then?”

Jean looked at it. “Right after we took this picture, we had our first time. We made gentle love actually. And you made me cry.”

The brunette looked at him softly. “Well, I can’t even imagine seeing you cry.”

“Surprisingly, I do that a lot.” He chuckled. “But the day after that was when you hit me on the head with the lacrosse stick. And, to put it plainly, our relationship went to shit from there.”

“Well, that’s a very happy ending to this story,” Marco said sarcastically.

All was meant well. Even as the subject was taking its already predicted dark turn, he couldn’t help but think about how light-hearted their conversation was.

“Well, that’s what happened. And of course, the reason why you can’t even look back on all this stuff that I know you wrote down originally in journal was because, on the day we broke up we both put those pages threw a paper shredder. And after that last kiss we had, the next time we ever saw each other again was in April, when I came back for your pa’s funeral.”

Marco nodded slowly. “Yeah. That was in my journal.”

“…Was the video in your journal?”

The brunette looked at him. “Yeah. I said that I found the pictures and video when I got home angry after being kicked out of the wake. And I heard about the angry sex as well.” He scratched his neck. “And I said that I added onto that video too, before I gave it back to you?”

Jean nodded. “That’s actually why I came here.” He put the pictures that were on the table back in the box. “You told me where you were going to be when you’d get to New York. You wouldn’t let me know that if you really didn’t want to see me again.”

He bit his lip. “Alright, you caught me.”

“See how I can see right through you?” the blonde grinned. “Well, you also said that I never had to see you again if I didn’t want to. Now, I wouldn’t be explaining our back story to you if I really didn’t, now would I?”

Marco perked up. He held the forget-me-nots all this time and finally gently placed them down on the table. “You’re right. That’s very true.”

Jean still gave him that sweet smile. “You have a ride home, right?”

“Actually uh… my car’s in the shop. Break line’s not working right.”

He pursed his lips. “Want me to take you home? My car’s parked right down the block.”

He didn’t have to tell him twice. “Yeah… Yeah, I really could use that ride.”

“Cool.” Jean got up and threw his jacket on again. “We’d better protect that shoe box with our lives,” he grinned. “It’s very valuable, and it’s starting to really pour outside.”

“You’re right.” Marco got his umbrella ready and stepped over to the door. “We’re never going to get that coffee, are we?”

All Jean could do was laugh, and they hurried down the block. “I just gotta tell you one thing. I’m terrified of thunderstorms.”

“Rest assured, the weatherman only called for a slight chance of rain.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious!” Jean grinned and quickly took Marco’s hand. Of course that was the one holding the umbrella. “C’mon, before we slip on the sidewalk!”

They both rain together, picking up their feet though to make sure that it was safe landing each time the hastily stepped on a puddle in their path. The two of them laughed, and of course despite the umbrella over their heads they were soaked from the puddles and cars speeding passed and dousing them with rain water. They got to Jean’s car and panted from the exertion.

“I sold my Harley to get this baby,” he sighed and opened the passenger door. “I miss it, but I like staying dry in the rain and warm in the winter, y’know?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Marco said and sat down. “Have I ever ridden in your Harley?”

“A couple times.” He grinned and started the ignition. “You were scared to death, though. Even though I kept telling you that you were gonna be okay.”

“Here’s the proof that you were right.” Marco smiled.

He was about to start the car, but he glanced at Marco again. He sighed softly. “This is really nice. You know… talking like this and being happy reminiscing the good times.”

The brunette shrugged. “Well, you’re the one that is reminiscing. I’m just listening to the story.”

“The best part of it all is that you are a part of it.” He put the shoe box beside them. “And you’re listening to me and _believing_ me. I think that is a very good sign.” He finally started the car after stalling to talk to him. “That was what I really missed about being with you. Talking like this and being comfortable just sharing a laugh.”

“I read about that awkward and stubborn anger the last time we met,” Marco said. “I can only imagine that it was a really gross time for the both of us.”

“Yeah, it was ugly.” Jean started to drive. “Where do you live?”

“7 Hyers Street. Toms River.”

“Why are you living in Toms River and going to work in Freehold. That’s just silly,” he grinned and started driving. He knew the way easily. “And why next to the high school?”

“It’s just a temporary home, Jean,” he laughed. “Just until I can get enough in a savings account to live somewhere else. Is the high school always really noisy though?”

“When _isn’t_ it noisy? You’re living by my Alma mater. And it really sucked there.”

“My high school wasn’t so bad, to be honest.” Marco looked out the window. “So, have you lived in New Jersey all your life?”

“Other than those few months last year, yeah.” He smiled. “I even went to college here. Montclair State. That’s where I got my degree.” Jean started driving on the parkway. “How does it feel living here?”

“Strange,” he confessed. “Everyone is so different here. Is it true that there is marriage equality here?”

“Yep, as of 2013.”

“I should tell Ymir and Krista to come up here, then.” Marco sat back. “They really wanted to get married. Plus they can raise the baby up here too. You know, Krista’s in her third trimester. Soon I’m gonna be an uncle.”

“I know,” Jean smiled. “I bet you’re really excited.”

“Probably not as excited as Ymir is, though,” he confessed and smiled. But I really can’t wait.”

They talked like this for the whole car ride, even when they crossed through Toms River. Jean did take a longer way through downtown so that they would have more time to talk.

“So wait, where do you live?” Marco asked. “You still haven’t told me.”

“Ocean Gate. ‘S not too far from here. It’s right along the Barnegat Bay, and it’s really peaceful at night when you hear the waves.”

“Nice. Does it have a good view?”

“Does it have a good view?” Jean repeated and snorted. “Of course it does. You can see the Seaside Bridge right across the bay. And in the summer the River Lady goes out occasionally.”

“What’s the River Lady?”

“Oh, it’s like a ferry boat, but it’s super fancy. I haven’t been on it yet, though.”

“You’re gonna have to change that then,” Marco said with a smile. “Maybe I can come with you?”

“Of course,” he insisted. “I could always use someone to tag along and hold my hair back when I have to vomit profusely.”

“Aw don’t say that,” he giggled. He looked outside. "Hey, it looks like we’re here.”

“Yep. And the rain might be letting up a bit.” He pulled over on the side, seeing the rain still pounding against the windshield. “Okay, maybe not.”

“Thanks for taking me home,” he smiled and opened the car door. “And thanks for telling me about everything. I really liked hearing it. At least it’d make a really good story.”

“Yeah,” Jean grinned. “That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

Marco used his umbrella and shut the door behind him. Jean saw that he forgot the flowers he gave him inside and froze. He grabbed them and quickly went out the door, the engine still running.

“Oi Marco!” he called. “Your flowers!”

The brunette looked back and froze. “Oops,” he laughed. “I nearly forgot. I need those!” He rushed over. “Get back in your car, you idiot. You’re soaked already!”

Jean faintly heard the car radio inside, and when hearing a familiar song start to play, his heart pounded in his chest. Marco looked surprised as well.

_“Alabama, Arkansas, I do love my Ma and Pa,_

_Not the way that I do love you.”_

Marco froze and smiled. “I love this song.” He stayed under his umbrella and held it over Jean as well.

The last time Jean heard this song playing and he heard Marco say that, he quickly turned it off. But this time, he let it play. He even turned it up. “I know you do.”

He blinked and listened to the song. He even started to mouth along. Jean thought that was adorable. It reminded Jean of the carefree days again during their relationship, when Marco would sing his heart out and not care who was around. When Jean sang along with him, and they would act out both roles while eating an entire plate of brownies and a couple of Hot Pockets.

And they started to sing along to it as well, staying under the umbrella and laughing when they would get a little too rowdy.

“How many times have we sang this song together, Jean?” he asked curiously as it played.

Jean shrugged. “Too many to count.”

“Makes sense,” Marco giggled. “You are a pretty good singer.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he assured him. He sighed longingly as the chorus repeated again. “You know… Every day that you saw me, you would sing this song? Reiner and your parents told me that whenever you were happy you sang that song a lot. And before we met, they haven’t heard you sing it since before your accident.”

Marco tilted his head and smiled. “Really? That’s quite a coincidence there.”

“Right?” he chuckled. “But… you know, there is something that I still haven’t told you about since I saw my birthday present from you.”

The brunette held the umbrella over his head. The music was drowned out by the rain at that point. “Well, what didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, after seeing how much you still really cared,” he murmured, “even after that shitstorm since we last saw each other…” That made Marco laugh. “I realized that I’ve fallen deep, deeply in love with you all over again.”

Marco froze. “…Really?” He felt a tinge of excitement course through his veins.

Jean nodded. “Probably more than the first time. And I didn’t tell you until just now,” he added with a small smile.

He dropped his umbrella on the ground. Jean noticed the elated expression on his face, and he thanked whatever deity was upstairs that they both were on the same page.

Marco’s eyes watered again. “Jean… I’m so sorry for everything. I-I really hope that maybe one day, we can start over? When we’re not screaming, stubborn assholes and fighting each other?”

Jean took both of his hands as they were getting thoroughly soaked by the rain. Neither of them cared. “I think that day should be today, Marco.”

He sighed deeply in relief as the blonde gently cupped his cheek, his thumb running soothingly over his freckles and catching one of his tears. Marco decided to be brave, and he slowly kissed his forehead.

Jean smiled softly and slowly sang along again. “ _Home. Let me come home. Home is wherever I’m with you._ ”

Marco breathed out a laugh and leaned close. “We’re soaked now, y’know that?”

“Your fault,” Jean smirked. “That’s okay, though. I always wondered what it’s like to be kissed in the rain.”

He nodded. “Me too,” he said softly. “Nothing ever beats a first kiss.”

“Even if it’s your fiftieth first kiss?”

Marco grinned as he nodded. “Even if it’s your fiftieth.”

They both smiled at each other, Marco gently guiding his chin up and leaning down. They exchanged a surprisingly slow and sweet kiss, like they had both been planning this for months. Like they had both waited for this their whole lives. Like it was meant to be. And after that, they were going to share many more first kisses, intricate portraits, and sweetly tasting cakes made right at home. They didn’t want it any other way. And they were going to make sure that this reality stayed no matter what.

They were going to make things right this time around.

The rain showed no signs of stopping, and they pulled away as Jean stopped the car. He shut the door and hurried inside with Marco, holding hands like they were earlier. They stayed inside to keep warm, to quickly go back to kissing once more. To hastily get out of each other’s wet clothes and finding their way around new territory. To have a peaceful and loving reunion that the both of them were sure to never forget.

Like it was the very first time.

 

* * *

 

 

_“Home, let me come home…_

_Home is wherever I’m with you.._

_Home, yes I am home…_

_Home is when I’m alone with you.”_

-       End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has come to its conclusion. The last chapter after this is the epilogue. And I would like this time to thank all of you. Without your support, your patience, and your courtesy and pushing me forward into what seemed like a story that was sure to flop, it probably would've. This was my very first complete, multi-chaptered work. And I would never have come this far without the help of my friends, as well as every reader here.
> 
> After four months of planning and hard work, of juggling college and work on top of my writing, of going through stress and anxiety and lack of self-worth, I am so happy to say that I am proud of how far this story has come.  
> This started off as a 50 First Dates AU, like I said in the beginning, but in the end it became so much more than that. It became real. It was a story of struggle and finding yourself even with what seems like impossible odds. It was a story of love, a story of loss. Of daily sorrow and grief. Of mistakes and corrections. A story of a cake decorator and a graphic designer meeting by chance and sticking it out even after such a big bump in the road.
> 
> I am so glad that you seem to have enjoyed Home it if you made it this far. I'm beyond happy that I saw some of you following along with me and foreshadowing and adding your own inputs when you felt like I needed them. Because I really did. The amount of motivation and support I've received this November was massive, and I'm just about ready to cry from relief. And I am so grateful that you stuck it out to the end.
> 
> Thank you so much.


	16. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We have reached the end of the journey. They made it home.

_The sound of the alarm clock_ blaring at seven in the morning is what makes Marco jolt awake. He sighs heavily and opens his eyes, slamming his hand down on it to turn it off. That’s right. He has to go to work today. He also needs to go and make a birthday cake for his sister. She turns twenty-four today. He figures that his dad and pa are planning something special for her.

He sits up and rubs his eyes. It’s really chilly this morning, and he holds his arms to keep himself warm. Wow. It’s really fucking cold.

“Jesus,” he hisses through gritted teeth and pulls the blankets over himself, covering him like a giant cloak. “Did Pa even turn the AC off last night?” He looks over at his nightstand. “Huh?”

 **Read me, Marco.** The journal is right next to his clock, the bold words being engraved into his vision as he grabs it and stares at the book’s spine.

“Well, alright,” he sighs. It’s a pretty big book. More like a binder with yellowing pages inside. Nevertheless he opens it to the first page. He reads intently, wondering why he has to in the first place. But then he gets the general idea real quick.

 

_July 5, 2014_

_I decided that I was going to make this journal today. I just found out today that on February 17 th 2012, I got hit in a car accident that makes me have a short-term memory span of only twenty four hours. Every morning I wake up thinking that it is February 17th 2012, but as you can see from the top of the page, it is over two years later since the accident._

_There was this new method that my family made along with this man I just met today. It was through a DVD that explained everything to me, and all the events that had happened in the world since my accident. I think that it’s very effective, and Pa said that it was the first time that I saw the video._

_But I have a feeling that this journal might be an extra boost for me, you know? I want to be able to see in my own words what I experience every day, so that I have something to look back on. This is only a test run for now, but I have a feeling that if this turns into a diary, I might have to throw it away and just forget the idea._

_I’m kidding, I probably would still keep it. Well, I’ll never know now, will I? I suppose that if future me is reading this right now, I didn’t throw it away. So cool. This is going to be really weird for me to be honest, but I’m giving this a chance._

His reaction to that journal entry has never changed. It never will. It’s always such a shock right in the morning finding out that you have amnesia and now god knows how much time has passed since then. He reads on, not sure what year it is now. So far it’s 2014.

And soon he finds out to his relief that he actually has gotten some help since his accident. That’s always good to find out.

 

_August 7, 2014,_

_My therapist wants me to use this as a better tool for realizing that my life is going by much faster than I realize. It’s still very hard going to an appointment when I have to, because sometimes I don’t remember that I have to see him, or that I need to make sure I call him just in case. Only to be told that I was supposed to see him yesterday or tomorrow or god knows what the hell else I come up with._

_It’s extremely frustrating. How am I supposed to be able to cope with emotions like this if I can’t even remember my damn therapist appointments? Dr. Zacharius is very patient with me though, so at least that’s good._

_\--_

_December 25, 2014_

_Christmas is today. I remembered to get those presents you mentioned in yesterday’s entry out of the closet. Dad and Pa really liked that bench press you got them. Especially Pa, of course. I knew he needed a new one, so it was perfect._

_I gave Ymir and Krista a set of wine glasses. And then they gave me a shirt that was way too small. It had a little letters that said **“I love my uncle.”** And that was when I realized. Oh my god…_

_They wanted a baby. I think I said that they announced it sometime in October. I can’t think of that right now. But Krista recently was artificially inseminated. And when they tested if she was pregnant, it came out positive. This is the first time I am hearing this news, and this has to be one of the greatest days of my life._

_I’m gonna be an uncle!_

Marco’s eyes brightened as he read that entry. He’s going to be an uncle? Or… Maybe he already _is_ an uncle! His breath gets caught in his throat. An uncle… God, he realizes that there is still so much for him to read, so he quickly continues. He notices that the style has changed.

_February 20, 2015_

_4:50 p.m. – Dr. Zacharius completely embarrassed me during therapy today. He read aloud my entry where Ymir walked in on me masturbating. Now I’m pretty much scarred for the next few hours. Thank you, therapy._

_I also told him about the song and how I felt with amnesia. And a lot of things have been cleared up now. We’re going to work to make sure that I feel as in touch with reality as I can be. And part of it is writing down the times that I write down entries or events happen. Maybe that will help. Who knows, right?_

_\--_

_March 30, 2015_

_Noon – There was a familiar face in the bakery. Well, I didn’t know him personally, but he was my idol, seriously. His name—you guessed it—Mylius Zeramuski! I only know that because he just so happened to be very big in the cake decorating business. Professional wedding cakes up north! I love his designs. Call me crazy, I think my college fan boy days are coming back. So what was Mylius Zeramuski doing in Miami? Well… he was here for his grandfather’s birthday, and he just so happened to be a regular customer. Despite how amazing his skills are, they both asked me to make it! This has to be a dream. Well, I guess I will find out tomorrow morning. I have to have that cake ready by about eleven o’clock. Let’s see how it turns out._

_\--_

_March 31, 2015_

_5:00 p.m. – Dr. Zacharius was so proud of me. He loved that I was able to tell myself that I wasn’t a burden to anyone. You should have seen the look on his face when he said that. And he was also really happy for me that I’m taking the job._

_I found out more information about it. He first wants me to be taken under his wing to have more tips on how I can improve as a cake decorator. That’s why I’m going to New York City first. And then he wants me in Jersey. Not too bad. There is a side business he has there, and he wants to be one of the head decorators._

_Proceeding to profusely freak out and being smothered by praise from my parents. Maybe some tears will be shed._

 

So he got a new job? Interesting… Now he is not entirely sure where he is in the world. Hopefully somewhere people know who he is… Or at least are aware of his amnesia. He sighs softly and looks down at the pages. “A lot has changed, I guess.”

_April 2, 2015_

_…_

_5:30 p.m. – Pa died. He was killed on impact, and Dad and the police waited until the girls got here so that we could all hear at once. They said that it was caused by hydroplaning. I didn’t get to see Pa once today. And the worst part is that tomorrow, I’m gonna wake up thinking Pa would be there. I’m gonna ask Dad where he is if I haven’t seen him all day, and he’s gonna just sit there with that empty look again._

_I never wanna see Dad cry again._

_I told Mr. Zeramuski what happened. He said that he was sorry for my loss and that I didn’t have to leave on the fifth. I’m not sure if I should even go through with the job now. I feel like I should just stay here with my family._

Krista and Ymir wanted to tell the three of us that they found out the baby is going to be a boy. Pa will never be able to see his first grandson.

_Dad said that the funeral is going to take place next Tuesday, the seventh. And I am not looking forward to when he says his eulogy. Ymir’s going to help him with the plans because I just can’t think of that without crying. Why Pa? Why did it have to be him? And it wasn’t even anyone’s fault._

_I miss him so fucking much already._

This is the second time this morning that he has cried. His pa is dead? This feels so surreal, but he knows that he has to believe his past self. This is not what he thought would end up happening. But he continues to read, anxious to continue before it might be too late.

He reads about his pa’s funeral. The fleeting thought of his dad ever crying makes his heart break. That is something that he never wants to see nor think about. But as long as he is recovering now, there is no reason that he should still be so tense about it.

He finds out that he has a tattoo on his right shoulder of a bird with one white wing and one blue wing, with the dates 1963 – 2015 across the bottom. Probably to remind him of Erwin.

He finds out about his new job in Freehold. He decorates wedding cakes and meets with clients all the time that love his work. And he thinks that is really cool. But wait, where is Freehold?

New Jersey, he finds out in the next paragraph. Thinking back to the entry about Mr. Zeramuski, now it kinda makes sense.

He then reads about a man named Jean Kirschtein that has been in his life since July of 2014. They had a sweet relationship when they were first together, but then he was the one that broke it off. When they met again, of course it was a complete flop. And everything went to shit. Why isn’t Marco surprised?

But one message and a chance meeting, and things were clicking back into place. This Jean character sounds like a pretty okay guy. Hot, too. Probably short. He can’t wait to go and see him. But there is still so much more.

 

_January 7, 2016_

_11:35 a.m. – We went down to Florida because I still haven’t gotten a chance to see my nephew other than in pictures. I can’t believe he’s five months old already. Little James is full of life and growing. God, and Jean loves the little guy too. Krista is so protective though, and Ymir can’t blame her for it. Come to think of it, she kind of is too. It’s cute, seeing my big sis holding her son like he’s the greatest gift in the world._

_It kind of makes me wanna have a kid._

_But I don’t think we should jump into anything. I mean, Jean and I have been back together for seven months, but it’s still a little bumpy. At least it’s already lasting so much longer than the first time._

_\--_

_June 16, 2016_

_7:03 p.m. – My twenty-sixth birthday, and Jean gave me keys. We own a new house! We’re gonna move into it soon. But it’s a good neighborhood with friendly neighbors, and it’s not too far from the water, which I love! It’s in Silverton, and it’s a nice two-story house on Stohess Dr. I think I’ll get used to living there, and I love it a lot._

_Can’t wait to move in!_

_\--_

_February 14, 2017_

_9:15 p.m. – Valentine’s Day I got a rather… intimate gift from Jean. He gives me the ultimate experience that I’m not good at writing down. Basically… I came home from work to him sprawled out naked on his bed and fingering himself. At first I figured he needed his privacy but he just beckons me closer with his clean hand and begs me to fuck him._

_Long story short, I had a_ very _happy Valentine’s Day. I didn’t mind at all that we missed our dinner reservations. I’m so in love with him, it’s not even funny. I bet I sound really repetitive talking about it, though._

Marco blushes as he stares at the page. Well… it is safe to say that he really _did_ write everything in here. From the subtlest events to down and dirty right on the pages. He obviously didn’t care about the explicit level of the content, as long as it was clues and pieces of his life that he could easily look back on and never forget. He doesn’t stop reading from there, of course not. That only makes it even more intriguing, that he could get everything on one page so quickly without a second thought about the content.

_August 30, 2017_

_3:12 p.m. – Today is going to be the best day of my life. I’m gonna do it._

_I’m gonna ask Jean to marry me._

Marco’s eyes widened. Marry… _Marry_ Jean? _He_ was going to ask Jean to marry him? If anything, it would probably be _Jean_ that should be asking. Why would he ask something like that?

No. No, he shouldn’t be thinking like that. That isn’t fair on him. He even saw that he didn’t believe he was a burden anymore, and he is not going to start believing that now. He continues reading.

 

_9:30 p.m. – Ymir recorded the whole proposal. There should be a DVD of it if you wanna see it. There are no words to describe what happened. You’re gonna have to watch it yourself. God bless her for knowing to do that._

He wants to watch it.

He glances over at the shelf by the TV in his room and takes a deep breath. He puts the DVD into the player and sits back down on his bed. He assumes that everything went well, if there is a recording of it. But if there were no words for it, then he honestly isn’t sure. Either way, he sits back.

\--

**August 30, 2017 – 15:30:33, 34, 35…**

_Krista looked over into the camera_ while holding her two-year-old son. She looked so excited.

“I can’t believe this is happening, Ymir.”

There was a soft sigh heard from behind the scenes. “Yeah, me neither. My baby brother… Can’t wait to get it all on tape.”

“That’s a great idea, Ymir!” she insisted and smiled. Their son grabbed at her cheek, and she gently took his wrist and lowered it. “No no, James. That hurts Mommy’s cheek.”

“Aww, I think it’s cute,” Ymir laughed.

“Shh, here he comes!”

The two girls stay quiet for the majority of the video. Marco enters the scene. The setting is at Braun’s Pastries. The couple probably went down to Florida to see their family. Probably did that a lot after they got together and stayed in Jersey.

Jean was at the counter already, deciding what he wanted for the day. And that was when Marco comes into the bakery. Reiner gave him a wave that made the blond turn around.

 _So that must be Jean,_ Marco realizes as he is watching the video. _God he’s pretty cute._ Meanwhile he sees himself giving Jean a sweet kiss on the lips.

“Decide on anything, babe?”

Jean shook his head. “Nah. Maybe we can settle with some cake?”

“That’s a great idea,” he smiled. He glanced up at Reiner. “Hey, can you get the red velvet from the back?”

“There’s no red velvet in the back—”

“’Ey Reiner, there’s this red velvet cake in the back.” That voice came from this guy Marco doesn’t recognize. He’s probably the new employee mentioned in one of the entries.

“Oh, okay…” Reiner shrugged. “Bring it out here, Eren. Marco wants it.”

“’Kay.” Eren came out with this small and practical red velvet cake.

Marco smiled brightly. “Thanks. Sorry Reiner, I made this myself.”

“So _that’s_ why you were in the back yesterday…” He saw something right on top of the cake that made him freeze. “Whoa, check out that topper!”

Marco blinked. “You mean the note, right?” Everyone was supposed to see only the note on top of the cake first. The note that read “ **Do not touch: Reserved for Marco Bodt.** ” But instead, everyone’s focus—including the camera’s—is on one thing. And it isn’t the note.

A small ring is set upright on top of the cake. He used it as the topper for while the cover was over it to make sure no one would steal it. He wanted to reveal it himself, that was what he wanted and planned for the day. However his future self watching this video tape doesn’t realize that. His attention is on the ring as well. And of course, so was Jean’s.

Seeing him staring at the ring in awe is what makes Marco’s heart swell as he watches what is going on. The amount of happiness on his face in that moment is absolutely priceless.

And that is what makes Marco quickly fall in love with him. His mind has been blown.

The smile never fades as on the screen he hears an ecstatic “Yes, yes, _yes, Marco!”_ while tears are shed and lips lock together, and they break off into a sweet chorus of “I love you, I _love_ _you_ …” This beautiful, crazy feeling called love that he had in this video is amplified once more in the present. He still has so much more to read, but judging by the sudden lack of creased pages and starred margins, they are not of deep importance. So he skips right over to the last page, assuming that there he will find the real day and what is really going to happen today.

_October 23, 2020_

The year is 2020. Eight years since the accident. Five years since his relationship with Jean started. And now, it’s been apparently three years since he proposed to him. There is a lot of things he needed to know, then. And that last date he saw means that today is the twenty-fourth of October. He continues to read the page.

 

_October 23, 2020_

_4:13 p.m. – This is it. Tomorrow starts the rest of my life. I am getting ready for the rehearsal dinner now, and I’ve never been more excited for this day than I ever have been in my entire life. And I’m scared as hell too. Imagine, spending the rest of my life with someone that is an absolute stranger to me every morning that I wake up. It’s a bizarre, but at the same time thrilling feeling._

_And I get to feel that every single day from now on with my soon-to-be husband, Jean Kirschtein. Tomorrow is the day._

_Tomorrow, October 24 th 2020, at noon at Wildwood Avenue Pier, I am getting married._

Marco tenses up. He’s getting married… Today? He just took everything in, how is he supposed to get married to someone that he barely knows?

Better yet, how is he supposed to get married to someone that has been more than just his best friend that he only was introduced to just before, in the blink of an eye? His life is moving by so quickly, and he still has yet to face the reality of the situation.

“I-I need a cigarette,” he gasps and gets up. He rushes to the shelf in his room. “Where the hell even is Wildwood Avenue Pier?” He can’t find his smokes anywhere. “Shit!” He scavenges the area for them, only to find a little pen type structure. “What the hell is this?”

There’s a note attached to the back of it.

 

_Need a cigarette? I bet you do. Sadly, I quit smoking back in November 2014. I now use this vape pen whenever I need it, and it works just as good. You’re gonna have to smoke that instead. Good luck! The juice for it is in your nightstand drawer, spares in your car to use sparingly._

 

“God fucking…” He sighs when seeing it’s empty. It seems self-explanatory on how to use it. All he needs to do is just find the fucking juice. He looks through his drawer. “So… the wedding’s at noon? Okay… I’m getting married in…” He checks the time. It’s eight-thirty. “Three and a half hours. O-okay.” He laughs nervously. He’s definitely screwed.

As he inhales from the vape pen deeply and smokes it, he hears a knocking on his door. “Oh god, what now?”

His sister and Krista walk in. “Well, that’s one way to greet us.”

Marco rushes over to them in relief. “Thank god, at least someone I recognize. You gotta help me out here, I’m scared as hell.”

“We figured you would be,” Krista smiles. “That’s why we’re here. You even told us specifically that we had to come here to help you stay focused.”

“Well at least I’m smart in my planning, I suppose,” he laughs.

Meanwhile a young boy rushes over and grabs onto Marco’s leg. “Uncle Marco!”

He looks down at him and smiles. This must be his nephew. He’s five now. He definitely grew a lot since that video was taken. He picked him up and held him. “Hey, little guy…”

“You always call me that,” he frowns and puts his hands over his face. “I’m James!”

“He knows that, sweetie,” Ymir chuckles. “We gotta help him get ready for his wedding, okay?”

Marco looks around. “We’re in New Jersey, right?”

Both women nod. “Everyone’s here too,” Krista insists. “And we mean, everyone. This wedding is super important.”

Marco looks down. “Well, everyone except Pa.”

His sister hears this and gently rubs his shoulder, giving him a sad smile. “He’s here, watching over us. Making sure you stay out of trouble and completely go through this wedding.”

Marco laughs at that. “It’d be really cool if he was here, though.”

“It would.” She then walks over to the closet. “Your tux is in here.”

He smokes from his vape pen and sighs as he stares at the khaki colored linen tuxedo staring right at him in the closet. He’s walking down the aisle in khaki.

“I’m not sure if this is a good idea,” he sighs.

“Don’t you start getting cold feet now.” Krista grabs his shoulders and gives him a light shove towards the closet. “Take it and put it on.”

“I dunno…” He rubs the back of his neck.

“You’re not even gonna be doing any walking! You’re standing at the end of the aisle for Jean, for god’s sake!”

“ _He’s_ walking?” This whole concept is very strange. This is his wedding day. He has absolutely no idea what’s going to happen.

“ _Please_ tell me you took some notes during the rehearsal dinner,” she sighs.

Marco gulped. “Notes?”

He’s scared as hell.

“Ugh, Marco…” Ymir rubbed his back as Krista took James out of the room to give them a moment of privacy. “You gotta focus, okay?”

“I don’t think I can do this,” he panics. “I don’t even know this guy.”

“Listen to me, Marco.” She held his cheeks. “You looked at the journal, right?” A nod. “And you know about him and saw the proposal video and get an idea of who he is, right?” Another nod. She ruffled his hair. “You’re going to be fine, trust me. He is such a good guy, and you know it deep down. You wouldn’t have proposed to him if you didn’t feel like you could stay with him.”

Marco slowly nodded. “And another thing, I don’t understand how I was the one that proposed to him. Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

“This was entirely your decision,” she smiled. “It was a shock to all of us, but you did it. _You._ And Jean is beyond happy about. He never thought this would happen in his wildest dreams, Marco.”

He sighs heavily. “I still don’t know,” he mumbled.

She pats his shoulder again. “Hey. You’re gonna be fine, I promise.”

Marco nods slowly. “Okay…” He takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

Ymir sets down the tux and smiles. “To refresh yourself a little bit, you’re getting married at Wildwood Avenue Pier. That’s in Ocean Gate, New Jersey, on a little beach. It’s a private wedding. At noon, the ceremony begins, so it’s not too cold out when you get married. Your tux is tailored so that you can wear a layer of under armor underneath it so you’re not shivering from wind chill on your wedding day. Jean’s is too. Krista’s doing your hair. It looks messy anyways.”

He nods as he takes off his pants. “Quick question.”

“Shoot.”

“…How do I do these ties?”

She rolls her eyes and laughs. “Just get dressed. We’re here to help you every step of the way.”

“Thanks,” he stammers as she shuts the door. He runs a hand through his hair and smokes his vape pen. “…I’m gonna need it.”

\--

 _Jean sees the pier come into_ view as the limo pulls up. His heart is about ready to explode, and he feels like he’s already sweating underneath the under armor and his suit combined.

“I can’t do this,” he exhales every time he takes a breath. “I-I can’t do this.”

“What are you talking about?” His friends Franz is sitting next to him. “Of course you can.”

“Easy for you to say,” he mutters. “You’ve already gotten married.”

“Well yeah, it’s really hard the first few moments, but hey…You made it this far,” he chuckles.

“How’s that supposed to help him?” Connie nudges him aside. He is Jean’s best man today. “Hey, what’s got you nervous? You weren’t like this getting ready.”

“I guess it’s the realization that I’m really getting married today,” he groans. “It’s a really gross anxiety, Con.”

“Talk to us,” he insists.

“What if all of a sudden, Marco doesn’t want to get married?” Jean bites his lip. “What if he just suddenly drops everything and ups out? He might leave again. He’s done it once, he can do it again.”

“Don’t you realize that _he_ is the one that proposed to _you?”_ Connie looks at him and tilts his now stubbly chin up. “How do you feel without your piercings?”

“Naked,” he laughs nervously. “At least I can still wear these.” He points to the saddle plugs of his gauges. A dark, earthy brown to match his tux.

“True,” Franz smiles. “But seriously. You have absolutely nothing to worry about, okay? Marco is going to be at that wedding. He’s going to wait for you at the end of that aisle, and he is going to marry the shit out of you.”

“I never thought I’d hear ‘marry’ and ‘shit’ in the same sentence in my entire life,” Jean grins. “Good one, Frankie.”

“Jean…” he groans at hearing the nickname.

Seeing they were parked now, Jean takes a deep breath and opens the door. He shakes his head. “I can do this…” He changes his attitude now with each breath he takes. He fills himself up with hope on an inhale. “I can do this.”

Meanwhile Marco waits at the end of the pier. They’re barefooted on the beach, a layer of sand over the usually wooden floor. He takes a deep breath of the refreshingly salty air.

“I can do this,” he says softly. He’s calmed down a bit and is a little surer of himself. He recalls the usual tradition that the spouses aren’t supposed to see each other until the ceremony, and there are no problems with that. He meets this guy every single day. He could have really used a sneak peek, though. That would have been nice.

Levi glances over at him. With the Justice of the Peace behind them, he just waits for the groom to come. “You okay?”

Marco nods quickly. “Yeah. I’m just giving myself some more motivation, y’know? I mean, I can do this… right?”

“If you couldn’t, you wouldn’t be here,” Levi insists. “You are going to be the best damn husband the world has ever seen, you hear me?”

“Y-yeah, I hear you,” he chuckles. “Thanks, Dad.”

He hugs his son and rubs his back as he looks up. “Good luck, okay? We all believe in you. Jean does too.”

Marco smiles softly. “Okay.”

When the music changes he quickly looks up. He barely realizes that everyone has made their way down except one. The one that he has been dying to meet yet again.

And there he is. There is Jean, standing at the other end of the pier. And Marco is awestruck.

He told himself that he wouldn’t start crying.

He takes a deep breath to hold those tears back. He hears Ymir somewhere turn on a video camera. Perfect. He keeps his eyes on Jean.

And the blonde is softly smiling at him, like he has been waiting for this moment his whole life. The earthy brown suit gives him a warm, welcoming aura for Marco, making him feel even more relaxed as he tries to figure out how to breathe. Because wow… He really is the luckiest man alive right now. The absolute luckiest.

Still not crying yet.

Jean gets all the way up to Marco in the next few seconds, and he gives him a toothy grin, probably from excitement as well as nerves.

What is Marco supposed to say? He clears his throat and turns to face him. “H-hi.”

Just as Jean expected. He smiles at him. “Hi,” he whispers.

“Y-you must be Jean,” he murmurs.

“You’re right.” God, he is so emotional. “’S nice to meet you.”

“You too.” It’s almost relaxing, how easy he is able to talk to Jean.

And when they shake hands as if they are meeting each other for the first time all over again, his fingers are so nimble, so warm. Intertwining with his like it’s clockwork, feeling such an outstanding amount of love that he never thought he could ever feel in his state of mind.

_Please don’t cry yet, Marco…_

They stand there, just staring at each other as the Justice begins the ceremony. Marco immediately feels drawn to him, and his heart is about ready to burst. He can’t believe that, after all this time, even if he can’t retain memories of each day that passes, he still feels this overwhelming, unconditional love for this man that he wishes he’d met just one day before his accident. That’d probably make things much easier on them.

But as they look into each other’s eyes and hold hands so tightly in fear of letting go, that thought slowly blows away along with some grains of sand in the wind. The tide soothes their racing minds, and all they think about is each other. This is their day. This is their moment to show exactly how committed and how adorn they are.

And they both know it.

They smile as all of a sudden, they hear nothing. They realize that now it is time for their vows.

Marco clears his throat. “W-who is supposed to say their vows first?”

“I can,” Jean insists. He still holds his hands. “Ready, babe?”

Something about the way this man calls him “babe” makes his heart race in a sudden thrill. He nods insistently.

He smiles and clears his throat. “Marco… For years, I have been trying to chase my dreams, to keep them alive and to let them grow every day. And for the longest time, I had absolutely no idea what my dream was. I soon had always thought that my dream was my career, to make big bucks in the city and live in the moment. But no… I realize…” He trails off as his throat tightens on a choked whimper. “E-excuse me... On that one day I came to a little bakery and saw you making cakes and living your sweet life to the best of your ability, that’s when I started to realize. That my dream was to make a home with the one person that I didn’t know what to expect him to feel for me each day.”

He pauses in his vows to watch Marco’s face. He’s smiling and trying to take deep breaths. He doesn’t want to cry yet, but god… This man. This man really is everything that he’d ever wanted in life, and more.

Jean continues and wipes his eyes. “I made a promise six years ago, to make sure you’re safe and you are happy, no matter what happened in our relationship. And that promise still remains true. I promise to make sure that you are safe. I will protect you on your bad days, and I will give you all of the love that you need on your worse days. And on your good days I will stay right by your side. No matter what. I will honor you and love you forever, and I will do everything in my power to take care of you like you deserve. I will always be here for you. And I will always love you.”

Marco is floored. This man… He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to be able to give him the vows he needed after this. This beautiful mantra of promises and praises. Something he never thought that he would ever experience or expect. This fucking man.

He’s crying.

The brunette is trying so hard to keep his voice steady, and he takes a couple of deep breaths. “O-okay…” From the bottom of his heart, from the source of his love that is the size of an endless ocean, he speaks. And he’s pretty sure the crowd has a hard time understanding. “Jean… I know it’s probably a real pain that every time we meet each day, it feels like the first time for me. But you… y-you staying with me and helping me in every way that you could. You showed me what love is. You carefully hold the key to my heart while my mind is unsteady. And it’s incredible that each day I have no fear when putting my trust in you. You make me feel so safe and warm just by saying ‘hello.’ I feel at home with you… And I promise that I will make you feel the same way that I do. Every day for the rest of our lives, I will. Names are fleeting… Precious time is limited to every twenty four hours. But the love I feel for you from the bottom of my heart is infinite. T-that is the one thing that I will never… _ever_ forget. I promise to keep that emotion alive every day. I-I promise to keep you warm and safe, even on my bad days, to give you the love that _you_ deserve. If anyone deserves the world it is you, for putting up with me every single day and still being there for me. You helped me grow, and I will do the same for you. I will never forget how I feel for you, as impossible as that might sound. I will always be here for you. And I will always, _always_ love you.”

This makes them both cry. The reality of the situation strikes them deep, and they are breathless from each and every promise they gave. This emotional meeting, this gracious reunion. This beautiful ceremony on a windy beach in New Jersey. This is it. This is love. This is their dream.

This is what being at home feels like.

James gives them their rings, on a small pillow. He has to reach up on his tip-toes in order to hand them to the two grooms. Their hands are shaking as they slip the wedding band on their fingers. They kiss each other’s knuckles.

Their hearts were racing as the Justice pronounces them married. They are married. They are together, and they are one. The reality dawns upon them, and their just-dried eyes quickly water again. They don’t do anything to stop it. Instead, they hold each other close, and guide their lips together. Guiding each other home.

Marco’s first kiss with Jean is slow and sweet, building as the crowd cheers for them. They smile against each other, quirk up in a wild burst of giddiness. They’re husbands now. They are together, forever and always.

And as they are together in the limousine, kissing each other’s tears away and drinking the sweet taste that “I love you” leaves on their lips, they don’t want it any other way.

\--

**Two Years Later…**

_At three in the morning, Marco_ is startled by the sound of a high pitched wailing. In his state of mind, he is utterly confused. There should be no reason why that sound should be coming from right down the hall, or a voice that he barely recognizes to sound either. A sweet baritone from the room right next to his.

He looks at the time and runs his hand through his unknowingly graying hair. He turns on the lamp next to his alarm clock. The crying is still going on. He looks through his journal entries, like he does every morning, albeit at a usually later time. His revelation never changes. He finds out in the same exact way.

He finds out that today is February 17th 2022.

Ten years…

It’s been exactly ten years since his accident. Ten years of pain, ten years of naivety, ten years of recovery. Although he lives this realization each and every day, no longer is he so shocked. It’s become embedded somehow. Right when he woke up, he knew that it wasn’t the day he thought it was. It’s been ten years. Sure, it’s Ymir’s birthday, but she’s thirty-four today now.

He reads on to find out what exactly is going on.

 

_February 16, 2022_

_3:23 p.m. – We brought our little girl home._

It only takes that. He chokes on his inhale and drops his journal. _Our little girl…_ He—

“…I-I’m a father?” he breathes out softly.

 

_Her name is Elisa, and she is eight weeks old. She’s so little, and we love her to pieces. Jean can’t stop holding her. We are so happy that she’s home with us. We’re a family. Me, Jean, and Elisa. We’re gonna be an inseparable trio._

_I never thought in a thousand years that this would ever happen, but it has. And I am so grateful. I love our daughter so much. And her and Jean… they are my entire world._

_My home._

Marco looks up at the door, still hearing the tiny crying, but now it’s a little quieter. Along with it is the baritone, a gentle melody ringing softly in the other room. Marco can’t help but smile as he wiped his eyes. He’s a father. He is so much more than that though.

Despite all of these odds. After ten years of living a life without knowing about yesterday, he is a man with the best life he can ever ask for.

He walks out of his room and into the one right next door. It’s a tiny nursery where the baby sleeps, and the soft lullaby is being played right next to the basinet. He is shaky when moving close enough, and at first sight, he falls in love.

His husband, his daughter. They’re both so beautiful. Marco is beyond blessed. He moves closer to them and looks down at their child.

Jean glances up and bites his lip. “Sorry,” he whispers softly through his teeth. “I-I can explain everything.”

It’s as if he doesn’t realize he knows. Maybe this really has happened before. Bless Jean’s sweet heart.

To soothe his anxiety, Marco leans down and gives him a soft kiss on his lips. He immediately sees him relax, and the brunette smiles softly. “It’s okay. Let me put her down.”

He slowly nods, and he carefully hands the baby to Marco. He sees his husband’s gentle smile, and it makes the brunette feel happily at ease. He looks down at their daughter, little Elisa. He sees the gentle sweep of dark hair on the top of her head and the tender way her fists clutch idly at the air. A thrill rushes through his body as he holds her close.

He still can’t believe that now he is a father. Now he has this precious life, along with his darling husband, to provide for and take care of. They are a family. They are all together sharing this peaceful home. And he doesn’t think it can be any better.

“It’s probably gonna be really crazy around here with me around,” he tells the baby as he smiles at her. “No matter what happens, I will always love you.” He sweetly kisses her forehead. “Welcome home, Elisa.”

He gently puts her down in the basinet as she lets out a tiny yawn. He strokes her hair gently until she falls peacefully asleep. He kisses her cheek goodnight before walking out. He checks the time. Three-thirty.

Marco notices Jean sitting on a bed in the room across the hall. He’s quickly wiping his eyes, trying to keep them dry. But it’s no use. He’s still crying.

The brunette smiles softly and slowly walks over. He sits down, startling the other. As his fingers run through his soft blonde hair, they kiss each other slowly, warmly, full of promise and gratitude that can’t possibly be expressed into words.

They hold hands, intertwining fingers. Marco is the first to speak, after softly kissing his husband’s forehead. “Thank you… For everything.”

Jean’s heart swells, and his smile is so full of hope. Before he can say anything else, they kiss once more, wiping away each other’s tears.

Ten years ago, after this accident he had, Marco probably predicted that in ten years his future would be bleak. He would be hopeless and dreary, living the shadow of a life while trying to stay with the crowd that is always moving, always a few steps ahead of him. He would never be able to live.

But now, ten years later, he has proven himself wrong. Ten years after his accident, he is a husband, he is a father, and his best friend in the whole world that he could possibly ask for is seated right beside him. He is in love, each and every day. He is full of happiness, and he has so much he is able to give to his family. This is the kind of happiness he silently has begged for. It’s real, it’s alive. It is here to stay.

Nothing in the world is ever going to change it. They are happy. They are safe. They are home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
